Time to Reflect
by we-bears-babygirl
Summary: AU: Sylar can't resist the pull of power. The ability he's after now is unlike anything he's ever seen before, and now that he's found it...he can't have it! What happens when his next victim is as hard to kill as he is? Or worse, what happens when his next victim becomes his obsession? SYLAR/OFC...definitely AU!
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE : I'm trying my hand at Heroes here. Sylar caught my attention and he is hott as a BAMF so this story started brewing. This is the first chapter so I just wanna see how y'all like it...plz comment!**

* * *

The streets were cracked and faded with age. Sylar thought for a brief moment they would crumble under his feet as he passed through the thick of the small town. One side of the road was filled with well-kept buildings, a police station and some government centers, while the other side seemed to be packed with abandoned buildings, their windows boarded over and their parking lots patched with weeds.

The summer heat was unbearable, pressing in around him like a wet blanket of humidity, suffocating him. The sweat beading on his forehead and trailing, sluggishly, down his neck was driving him crazy. He wiped it away impatiently, ignoring the honking horns of cars passing. He was forced to trade his usual dark attire for something thinner and cooler. When he reached the deep South, he realized just how poorly he prepared for the weather. How in the hell could the temperature spike twenty degrees just by crossing from Tennessee to Alabama anyway?

The pulsing in his head grew when he finally reached a tiny little dot, almost overlooked, on the map called Phenix City. He sneered, sitting on a bench near the river bordering the city. He looked at the bridge crossing over the water into Georgia. He watched cars cross over back and forth, and pedestrians walk across on the sidewalks. Not even a mile separated these two small cities, but crossing this river seemed to make all the difference. From where he sat, he could see rising buildings and shiny, new facilities. People bustled like ants over there, while the people over here seemed to drag themselves along, speaking volumes about them. It was here, though, that the power pulsed, like an exposed live wire. He had felt it from miles away, a pale echo to the thrumming energy he picked up now.

This person lived and thrived here. They had walked these streets, ate at these run-down fast food restaurants, looked at this river...

"New in town?" a man asked, leaning over the bench. Sylar looked up, feigning an innocent look. The man was completely unremarkable. An easily forgotten face in a forgotten town. "Sorry for asking, but guys like you are more at home in Columbus, not here."

"I can see that," he said honestly, the man's thick accent grating on his ears. He sounded like a reject from Beverly Hillbillies. "No, I'm just passing through. I'm actually looking for someone. An old friend of the family."

"Are you now? May I ask who? Pretty small town, everybody knows everybody." He replied with a wide smile. Sylar tensed, his fists clenching beside him as the Hunger throbbed in impatience. He didn't have long.

"I'm not sure myself. Just thought if I come to town, they'll find me." The man nodded to himself.

"Alright, well good luck finding them, I guess. My lunch break is almost up so I'll just be leaving you to it, then. I'll see you around." He left and Sylar ignored him, his face losing its nice mask. A few more seconds and he would have-Sylar shook his head. No, no more innocent bystanders. Just the ones you need to end the pain...just them. The thrum of energy pulsed with the headache between his eyes, the heat pressing down on him mercilessly. Whoever it is that was putting off this amazing power was going to die slowly. They should suffer as he had making his way down through this sweltering wasteland.

A breeze from the river cut through the heat like cold water in a desert, wrapping around Sylar and with it, the power's energy in full force, stunning him. He then smelled something sweet, like both an exotic flower and a baking cake. It both raised the hairs on the back of his neck and released all the tension in his body, leaving him lax and almost boneless where he sat.

His eyes were drawn to a white SUV driving across the bridge, stopping several yards away from him at a stop light. The windows of the car were down and its music was turned up loud enough to be heard where Sylar sat. The woman driving it wore a baseball cap, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and she was drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel, occasionally mouthing the words of the song she was listening to. She wore a modest tank top, fanning herself. Her smile as she lip-synced was bright, reflecting in her large eyes.

Now that he saw her, he knew it was her. She was the one shining like a beacon, calling him and his Hunger to her. She was attractive. He smirked as he thought of how attractive her brain would be, and how powerful he would become once he got to it.

The light changed green and she pulled away, oblivious to Sylar as he slowly started to follow, her energy trailing behind her like a trail of glowing bread crumbs. He was more than willing to wait until nightfall. The monster inside of him agreed with a purr, already giddy from anticipation.

* * *

Her name was Nala right now.

She sighed as she walked into her apartment, sifting through the mail, all addressed to her, but to different names.

 _Hara S. Smith..._

 _Boca J. Smith..._

 _Yrallih Smith..._

"Thank god I'm allowed to keep my last name," she muttered for the millionth time of her life. Ever since she came into this 'ability', her name had long since vanished, being replaced by so many others. It wasn't for a lack of trying on her part, that was for sure. She tried, but it just couldn't happen. It had been so long, she wasn't entirely sure she could remember the name she was born with. She had already changed it so many times.

It was because of this awesome 'ability' that she had to drop out of school and quit work, throwing herself into seclusion. It was annoying as hell giving a new name every time she opened her mouth, but now that she cut herself off from the world, she was able to keep a name for longer than a day. Today, she met a man named Alan at the library. He gave her his name before she could say anything, so now? Call her Nala.

Alan was nice enough, nothing real special, except for the son he abandoned with his high school girlfriend. It was amazing how many nice guys had that particular secret hidden inside them. Needless to say, she excused herself as soon as she could and hightailed it out of there. It was damn near impossible to find anyone with pure intentions. Every single person she encountered was dark on the inside while portraying sunshine on the surface. Very few were true to their natures but then once they met her, whatever her name was at the time, their true nature destroyed them.

She threw the mail onto the kitchen counter, falling onto her small couch. Her forced seclusion was made easier by the rumors flying around town. She heard some church-goers call her "the mark of Cain", she heard others call her a "curse", and most called her "the luckiest twenty-five year old alive". She wouldn't call herself lucky. She attracted evil like a magnet and saw more death than any woman her age should.

She huffed, covering her face with her hands. Days like this always reminded her of the loneliness she feels. No one she knew had true intentions where she was concerned, and those who did, weren't around anymore. She stared up at the ceiling, wishing to whoever was listening that she lost this so-called wonderful ability, but then she sighed. If they didn't grant this wish the first day she wished it, why the hell would they grant it now after ten years of death and blood?

* * *

The sun had set hours ago, taking with it the oppressive heat. The night was still thick as it pressed around Sylar and mosquitoes took to him almost as soon as he approached the woods bordering the girl's apartment building. He allowed Elle's power to crackle and pop over the surface of his skin, and he took a small delight as the pests soon stopped biting, his power popping as the bugs flew too close. The lights in the girl's apartment, 12G, were still on and he could see her silhouette crossing the windows.

The girl's apartment building was secluded, set up on the side of a country highway, a few blocks away from the community college. The entire area was nothing but small side roads and woods, making the beast inside him grin in satisfaction. If he wanted, he could take her deep into the treeline, away from the little bit of civilization. She could beg, she could scream, and the only one to hear her would be him. The fantasy of her lying in the grass, writhing and screaming, begging him to stop, of her gorgeous brain on display, had him practically salivating by the time night came and truly fell, all the lights in the building shut off as their inhabitants went to sleep. It would be easy work. Break in the apartment, kill the girl, take her overwhelming powers, and leave. He would be back to tormenting Claire and Peter before they even find the body.

He followed the last of the girl's energy to the door of 12G, the disorienting smell of flowers and cakes now overpowering his senses. The locks on the door were easy work, but there were a handful more than he thought the girl would have. She's definitely the cautious type. He counted ten locks, and half of them had no way of being opened from the outside, if it weren't for his telekinesis. The door opened silently into the dark apartment. It was a messy place, but there was a definite path cleared through to the bedroom. He followed the scent of the girl, his blood racing with excitement as he felt her presence in the room beyond. Her power was almost singing as he crept closer, pressing his hand to the door of her bedroom. He felt her power answer his, curling around his hand as if it was a tangible force. Then it withdrew, its absence stealing his breath.

"I know you're there." Her voice stated calmly behind the door. He froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "My nerves are about to give me a heart attack so just open the damn door already!" His stomach dropped like a lead weight as he stood there for a moment. He was, honestly, shocked. He heard her groan loudly before the door was yanked open. Her large brown eyes stared into his with a glare. "I felt you the minute you broke in, so tell me what you want, then get out."

Sylar raised an eyebrow, surprised by the girl's tenacity. "Usually," he drawled, "little girls would hide under their bed when the monster breaks in."

She stiffened, her mouth twisting in a grimace. "If you consider yourself a monster, then I've seen the goddamn devil himself!" He couldn't help but smirk. "What do you want?" she asked again.

He leaned on the doorframe, closing in on her personal space. She didn't give an inch. She just continued to stare at him. "Something you have."

She smiled ruefully. "If it's money, have at it. I only have ten bucks to my name. If it's my identity, good luck. I'm listed under more names than you can count. And if it's me in bed, I'm sorry, you need to buy dinner first." She smirked, moving to close her door, but Sylar's hand shot out, catching it. When she looked up then, she was alarmed. "So which is it?" Her voice only had a faint tremor in it. He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't looking for it. He sneered, stepping into her room and in turn, coming within inches of her. The smell of flowers was her perfume, he noticed, but underneath, the smell was warm, the smell of cakes baking in an oven.

He also smelled her fear, and it was like the frosting on top. "None of those things. I want what you have. I want the power inside of you."

"How did you-?"

"It calls to me. I need it." She held up her hands, her eyes blown wide with fear now.

"Hey, listen, don't hurt me, okay? You're going to regret it. Trust me! If I knew how to give it to you, I would, but whatever you do, don't hurt me." He chuckled, the sound dark.

"I'm afraid I have to." He reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers down her cheek. She shuddered, her eyes closing tight as a whimper escaped her throat. "I need your power, and I will do whatever I have to to get it." With a twitch of his fingers, she flew across the room, gasping as she hit the far wall, pinned. Sylar winced when a sudden ache blossomed across his back but shook it off, watching her struggle under his grip.

She looked at him fearfully, but her eyes made him pause. She wasn't scared of _him_. "Please." She pleaded. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. Let me go. It's already happening. Please, Sylar." The use of his name made him falter, releasing her to fall to the floor. She was shaking, but made no move to run. "Sylar-"

"How do you know my name?" He snapped, feeling truly stunned. Was she a telepath? If she was, why did she think _she_ would hurt _him_? Perhaps she was also telekinetic? He couldn't wait to get to that brain and find out. She pushed her thick hair back with a trembling hand, her face drawn and pale. Her brown eyes were almost black, her pupils blown wide.

"I know everything about you." She replied, voice shaking. "All of those people...dead." Her voice didn't show the horror she showed on her face. She looked at him like he was certainly the boogeyman. "I take it back. You are a monster."

"Now that we're in agreement..." he muttered. He quickly crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. She pressed herself back into the wall, as if willing herself to fall through it. "You can't run from me."

"It's not me that should run." was all she said.

 _Enough of this,_ he thought as he held his hand up. He reached out with his power, feeling it press then cut through her skin. She cried out in pain and shock as blood dripped down her face, an angry red line carving itself across her forehead. Her eyes didn't leave his. Her gaze flickered back between his eyes and somewhere just above his brow. After a moment, she paled further.

"No!" She cried. "Please! Stop!" He ignored her as he pressed on, his limbs trembling in excitement as he felt her power reach out to him, encasing him in its powerful glow. She went limp under him, sobbing words in between cries. He lost the ability to understand them as the rush of her energy washed over him, then suddenly, he cried out as agony erupted in his skull, blood bursting from his skin and dripping down his face. He collapsed to the floor beside her, both of their powers retreating back as they panted.

"I warned you." She sobbed, still propped against the wall. "I'm so sorry." Why was she sorry? Sylar reached up, feeling the blood trail up his face to his forehead, where an incision made its way across, the deep seated pain inside his head meaning the damage had reached his skull.

"What the fuck are you?" he growled, already feeling the bone and skin knit back together. He was wiping away the blood dripping off his nose when he noticed her wounds healing as well, almost as quickly as his own.

"I'm you, sort of. I'm a Mirror." A mirror? He sat up, sitting across from her as he regained his strength. She didn't seem terrified anymore, just weary. He realized, with alarm, that he was actually afraid of her. Was it impossible to take what he needed? Who was she?

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Right now? Ralys." His brows knitted together in confusion, but the pulsing pain in his head made him decide to ask questions later. Right now, he climbed into her bed, ignoring her glare as he used her sheets to wipe the blood from his face. She scoffed when he kicked off his shoes, carelessly discarding them on the floor. He vaguely heard her mumble some colorful words.

"Just so you know, you can't kill me, so I suggest you don't try to." He said, glancing at where she still sat on the floor, dabbing the blood on her face with a discarded shirt.

"Same here."

He sighed, crossing his arms behind his head, letting his eyes rest as his brain struggled to process what the hell just happened. "That's too bad, Ralys. Because I am certainly going to try."

He heard her sob quietly, and even though his eyes were closed, he knew she stood up. He heard her cross the room to the bathroom and shut the door, then the sound of running water. He vaguely heard her rush to the toilet and vomit. The sound of her retching made his own stomach roll unpleasantly.

She eventually came out, groaning. Sylar opened his eyes, staring at her back as she opened the door to leave the room. "If you leave," he said calmly, "I'll just hunt you down." Ralys froze in the doorway, her fists clenching at her sides as she looked over her shoulder.

She had the nerve to roll her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I fucking live here. I'm not running away. So if you're staying in my bed, then I'm taking the couch. I've survived a lot worse than your little magic trick, so unless you plan to try to kill us both _again_ , I'm going to get some rest because I feel like shit, so I know you do, too. We'll talk in the morning. Night, Sylar." She closed the door firmly behind her, mumbling under her breath about Advil and ginger ale as she left the room.

Sylar tensed when he heard her voice reach the front door.

" _I'm still not leaving, asshole!_ " She called back as she locked the door. He was taken aback. This was a strange woman.

He forced himself to relax back onto her bed, strangely assured that she wouldn't try to kill him while he slept. Tomorrow, he'll figure out how to get her powers. The ability to reflect your opponent? He could certainly use that to his advantage. She had healed at the speed he did, meaning that being his reflection also meant access to his powers. That could be the answer he was searching for. Perhaps he could find a way to retain those powers, end the need for all the bloodshed? And she would be the last life he takes for his own greed. Ralys? His own name backwards? Was that what she meant by her many names?

 _"You're giving me a migraine!"_ She yelled banging on the wall outside of her bedroom, apparently in the living room. He smirked, letting his eyes close again. She was certainly powerful. He had only grazed his fingers across her cheek, and now she had full access to his mind and abilities. He felt the first stirrings of worry twist his gut before he quelled it. He had just as much power over her that she had over him, and now, he realized, he's going to have to get creative. It's been a while since he had a challenge and the beast inside of him growled in agreement. This kill was going to be well worth the trouble. The longer she made him wait only meant the longer she would suffer.

 _"I doubt it._ " The girl, Ralys, said through the wall. _"Have fun plotting. I'm getting some sleep."_

Again, they found themselves in an agreement. Sylar allowed himself to fade with a mild headache and the sound of a watch ticking in his ears. He didn't have much time. He would have to figure something out very soon. As he drifted, he could have sworn he felt that tangible force of the girl's power reach out to his hand again, curling around his palm like a wisp of smoke. Before he could think to look, though, he fell asleep.

* * *

Sylar woke to the smell of coffee and a voice talking in the other room. He took in the organized mess that was the bedroom, slowly sitting up to see where he was. A painful throb inside of his head brought the past night back in flashes.

He followed the girl to her apartment. She knew he was there. She knew what he wanted. She knew his name and who he was. He tried to kill her. Her power protected her, by projecting her injuries to him. She said she was his reflection, his Mirror. The name she now called herself was Ralys. What was her name before?

He stood, stretching the kinks in his back. His shoulders hurt. He guessed it was from throwing Ralys into the wall. He padded barefoot into the hall, frowning when he realized the girl was on the phone.

"No, Jared, it's fine." She said, holding her head in one hand. She must have had quite a headache, because Sylar's pounded terribly. "No, I can't come out to lunch either." Sylar cleared his throat. She jumped, looking over. He sneered, holding a finger to his lips. She just rolled her eyes. "What?" She turned back to the phone. "No, it's just my client. He just got here. Yeah, it's a pretty big case. Nervous breakdown. Got to get him back on his feet." She paused, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "A week," she looked over at Sylar again, from head to toe, "Maybe more. He's pretty messed up."

Sylar chuckled, gliding into the kitchen, helping himself to the mug of coffee on the counter. The instant it his his tongue, the headache abated, coming down to a dull twinge. He couldn't help but sigh. It's been a while since he had coffee this fresh, from such a foolish victim.

"Could you stop with the internal monologue?" She snapped, laying the phone on the counter beside him. "I just basically signed a one-way ticket to a kidnapping and you're over here grinning like a cat in an aquarium."

"Kidnapping?" He asked, taking another sip. She crossed her arms, jaw taut, glaring daggers from her eyes.

They stared at each other over his steaming mug for a few moments before she huffed, turning to the fridge. "You want to kill me. I get it. Don't exactly get why, but you do." She opened the door, leaning down to look through its contents. His eyes couldn't stop from wandering down, taking in her figure. She was solidly built. She wore loose-fitting pants, but he could tell her legs were toned underneath. Her curves were graceful and perfect. He wondered if she was as soft and warm as she looked. "And when you stop staring at my ass," his eyes glanced up to catch her watching him, holding a bottle of water, "I can explain what happened last night."

"So you are a mind-reader?" He confirmed, only a smidge guilty. She closed the fridge, mirroring his pose, leaning back against the door. She laughed once, with no humor.

"The ass-staring was good ol' female intuition. Everything else?" Ralys shrugged, uncapping the water. "It's complicated." She walked off into the the living room, throwing casually over her shoulder, "You might as well get a second cup before you come in here." He looked down, noticing his mug was almost empty. He refilled it, then followed her to the couch. He dropped down onto the cushions next to her, smirking at her grimace, but it was her fault. This was the only place to sit. They could always move to the bed, however, and the idea made his smirk grow wider. She massaged her temples, mumbling under her breath.

The silence that stretched between them was thick with questions. Why was Sylar here? What exactly could Ralys do? Why can't he kill her?

"Okay," she finally said, dropping her hands from her head. She stared at the patch of cushions between them as she spoke, "It's not unusual for teenagers to have an identity crisis, you know? Who am I? Why am I here? That type of shit, but I never thought mine would last ten years. I figured out the why I'm here part, but who I am is another game entirely. The guy I was just on the phone with. His name is Jared. If you weren't here, invading my head, my name for the rest of the day would have been Deraj, or I prefer Dera J.. He's just a friend. He would pretty much be the only one to alert authorities if I went missing so I had to get him off my back."

"You're so willing to disappear? I would have indulged you if you found me sooner." Sylar replied, absorbing her fear. "If you're so afraid, why are you sitting here, making me coffee, and telling me all of this?"

"Because you can't kill me." She said that with dead certainty. That made Sylar frown.

"And why is that?" He fought to keep the frustration out of his voice as the beast inside him roared in denial. He has to kill her. He must. He needs that power.

She allowed herself a small smile then. "Everything you do to me happens to you. I am you right now. Which means that this would actually be a very creative form of suicide."

It was Sylar this time that was dead certain. "I can't die."

She nodded, gingerly feeling the healing red skin on her forehead. "I noticed. That healing ability certainly comes in handy, I'll admit. I've had to come back from a lot worse the old fashioned way." She crossed her arms, curling into herself. "My power is both a blessing and a curse. With this, I can help people in a way very few can. I know their deepest, truest selves, and I can help them with whatever troubles them, but being their reflection also means I'm exposed to their darkest secrets and any evil they're hiding. You're a relief actually. You, as Sylar, are the reverse. I've seen the people you kill, the blood you spilled, and the countless lives you took for your own personal gain." The tone as she said it wasn't accusatory, just stating facts. But when she finally looked into his eyes, the gaze was calculating, "It's the good in you I have to look for. The answer, Sylar, is yes. You are capable of redemption."

Before he knew it, his air supply was cut off, and he knew i was because he had the girl pinned under him, a hand around her throat. She gasped and wriggled under him, fighting to throw him off, but he held firm, squeezing her throat tighter. It wasn't until his vision started graying and his head was pounding again that he let go, seething. He needed to kill her. He _needed_ it.

She sat up, still pinned under his body, rubbing her throat. She coughed for a while, trying to breathe again.

"I always hate that one." She joked in a hoarse voice. "You can't strangle me. You can't poison me, shoot me, stab me, beat me to death, or even push me into a speeding car, and trust me, that's been done. People have died trying to kill me, Sylar." She didn't seem perturbed by their closeness as she leaned back to look in his face. "I gave myself the next week or so because I know you're going to leave, now that you can't get what you want. And you have two options: You either make arrangements to take me with you, or you don't act surprised when I show up wherever you go. Now that you need my help, I can't walk away."

"Who says I need any help?" His own voice was hoarse.

"Don't choke me again, but it's not you, Sylar, who needs me. It's Gabriel." Her gaze pinned him with deadly accuracy as he processed her words. She knew Gabriel. She said there was good in him that she could salvage.

 _NO!_

There was no hope. He just has to resign himself to killing those he needs to sate the Hunger. He heard a watch ticking, and it ticked almost like the girl's pulse did when it was pressed under his thumb. She couldn't let him leave. She would follow, and her power would wrap around him, teasing him, taunting him, making the next person he killed only half as satisfactory as she would have been.

"If you're coming with me," he said through clenched teeth, "you will be miserable. I will make you wish you could die, and when I finally figure out how to take your powers, you will beg for it."

She nodded, her face closed off. "From what I've seen, if anyone can figure it out, it's you."

He squashed the pride he felt at her acceptance. Instead, he stood, keeping a firm grip on her arm as he drug her to her bedroom, throwing her towards her closet. "Pack for cold weather." She franctically climbed to her feet, disappearing into the closet.

He stormed back into the living room, turning over the coffee table, tearing magazines apart, and scattering them through the whole room. He then rushed to the sink in the kitchen, opening every bottle of cleaner he could find, dumping it on the furniture and the drapes. When she finally came back into the room with a heavy suitcase sitting beside her, he had the room soaked in flammable liquids.

He grinned smugly as she noticed her apartment in shambles. The color drained from her face. "What're you doing?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small lighter. She bit back a sob when the realization hit her. "Next stop is a long way, but it will give us plenty of time to talk." He flicked the lighter, tossing it onto the couch. The couch erupted in flames, the smoke quickly filling the small apartment. "Let's go." When she made no move to leave, frozen to the spot, he took the suitcase in one hand and her arm in the other, forcing her down to the parking lot. Tears were dripping down her face when he forced her into the passenger side of her SUV, throwing her bags in the back seat. She stayed silent as he climbed into the driver's seat, cranking the car. "Wish you were dead, yet?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "It's going to take a lot more than arson, Sylar."

He let his mind wander as they pulled onto the highway, heading north. Far north. He finally glanced at her, smiling when she shuddered. "Can't wait to figure out what does it." She shook again, curling tightly in her seat.

"I hate you." She hissed, her voice thick.

"I don't care." He replied, letting silence fill the cab of the truck. The beast growled in impatience and Sylar's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. Her perfume faded, so now the truck was filled with the scent of vanilla and sugar, making his blood race. Her energy cackled and swam around him, and he could feel it around him like silk. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the speed of the car steady climbing, as she trembled next to him. So small compared to him, and yet the power inside of her was bursting at the seams, eager to explode. The animal inside of him was clawing and snapping, desperate for even a little taste.

A pale forearm was forced into his line of sight, and in that fragile hand was a pocket knife. "Go ahead. If you don't, we'll end up wrapped around a tree." She flipped the blade open, holding it out to him.

Before he thought twice, he took the blade, dragging it across the soft skin of her forearm. She cried out, yanking her arm back, cradling it to her chest. His body relaxed in fractions as her power lashed out, coiling around him then penetrating him. Pain blossomed across his forearm, where an identical gash broke out in his skin, blood pooling and dripping into his lap. The beast purred, satisfied with the taste, as he curled up and rested. The consistent headache behind Sylar's eyes and the watch ticking in his ears faded until it was gone, and tension he didn't know he had melted away.

"Was it worth it?" She asked.

"Yes." was his reply as they continued down the highway, this time at a legal speed.


	2. Chapter 2

They were on the road for eighteen hours. Sylar's head started pounding again after six hours, but he couldn't bring himself to test his new little trick. Hurting Ralys forced her power to surround him, feeding the beast inside him bit by bit, but he knew a simple cut across her forearm wouldn't be enough. Like all good drugs, he needed to up his fix.

"We're stopping." He said, even though the girl stopped speaking long ago. She stared out of the window, wrapped in a hoodie she pulled from her suitcase, the hood pulled up. Sylar has lost track of where they were. He just knew they had another day of driving ahead of them. He needed to get Ralys out of his head long enough to find his next victim. He pulled off the highway at an exit marked 'Boone'. He drove down the little back road, pulling into the first shady motel he saw.

After he parked and shut off the engine, Ralys looked up at the bright neon sign in the window of the office. "Pay nightly or hourly?" She read, looking horrified. "I wouldn't mind if you burned this place down." She sat up a little straighter, stretching awkwardly in her seat. "I hope that's the only reason we're here." She added under her breath.

He snickered, opening his door. She moved to do the same, but his hand shot out, pinning her to the seat by her shoulder. "Stay." He said firmly. She glared at the hand on her shoulder before following up his arm to look him in the eye.

"Why would I volunteer for this crap just to run away in the middle of Iowa?" He didn't respond, but he did remove his hand, his skin tingling. "Just pay the damn guy. You can drag me in by my hair when you get back."

He smirked, leaning over the console to come within inches of her. She drew in her breath through clenched teeth, but didn't move as he brushed a lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I just might hold you to that, honey." She shuddered at the nickname, but Sylar couldn't call her by name. Having his backwards name was just weird.

 _One Sylar is enough_...a voice that sounded suspiciously like the girl's said in his head. If she projected the thought into his head, she made no move to show it. Maybe it was just his imagination.

"Please get out of my face." Her voice was breathy as she said it. He chuckled darkly before pulling away, slamming the door with more force than necessary. She relaxed back in her seat, closing her eyes, and Sylar felt anger course through him. He didn't know why, but he felt outraged that she wouldn't look at him. Wouldn't watch him. God knows he has watched her. In the past eighteen hours, he kept his eyes on her more than he did the road. She was a very attractive woman, until she opened her mouth and started talking...

She moved then. Without opening her eyes, she raised a hand, flipping him the bird. He fought to keep a surprised laugh from slipping. As he entered the small office, he could have sworn he saw her open her eyes, but when he looked back they were still closed, but her lips were curled upward on one side, as if she was fighting a smile herself.

He walked in the door, keeping an eye on the SUV, as he approached the front desk.

"Good evening, sir. Travelling?" The haggard woman behind the desk greeted him, a cigarette perched over her ear. She looked similar to one he had killed some time ago.

 _That sound..._ she had said... _What is it?_

 _Murder._

He shook off the thought as he requested a room, a smirk on his face when she asked one bed or two.

"One, if you have it." He replied. Let the girl sleep on the floor. He had said he wasn't going to make it easy for her. She typed into an ancient computer, clicking her tongue as the screens loaded. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay, there's room 433. It's on the the other end of the motel with a queen bed. Is that alright?"

Out of sight, he thought. Out of the way, too. He doubted anyone was following him, but if they were, he could see them coming. "It's just fine. Any suggestions of places to eat around here?"

Suddenly, someone called his name from outside. Then there was shouting. One voice was unmistakably Ralys', the other's was a man. The woman behind the desk shook her head. "Another drunken tiff? I would wait in here if I was you. Those things get sketchy fast." She retreated into the back room after handing Sylar his key. As soon as she was out of sight, he rushed for the door, following the sound of shouting. He made it to the SUV, but he froze when he saw the passenger side open, change and keys on the ground where someone was forced out.

Ralys shouted his name again from the other side of the parking lot. He slammed the door of the SUV shut, the animal in him snarling when he caught the smell of fear. He walked quickly over to two men struggling to drag someone between them. They reached a streetlamp when he saw Ralys thrashing in their grip.

" _Let me go!"_ She cried, yanking on their arms. They cursed but ignored her as they pulled her sharply. Something popped and she cried out, crumpling between them. The man who yanked her arm then cursed loudly over another pop as he collapsed to the ground.

"The fuck did you do, bitch?!" The other yelled at her.

Before she could speak, Sylar replied. "She said to let her go. You should have listened." He was surprised how menacing his voice sounded. He saw Ralys flinch, cradling her arm.

"Don't kill them, Sylar." was all she said. The two men looked up at Sylar then, confused in their drunken stupor.

The injured one scrambled backwards, seeing something in Sylar's face that his partner didnt' The partner pulled out a gun, pointing it at him. "What're you, some kind of hero?! Just turn around and start walking. The girl is coming with us."

Sylar looked down at Ralys. With a nod, she scooted away awkwardly. The partner looked between them, the gun trembling in his hand.

"I'm no hero." He said, his power coiling in his body. A watch was ticking in his ears and his head surged red-hot behind his eyes. "The girl is _mine_." The last word was almost a growl. Ralys shivered.

"Wrong answer, bro." He pulled the trigger and the night rang out with three shots. Ralys called out to Sylar, but then the night went silent when three bullets stopped dead inches away from Sylar's chest. They stared stunned as he rolled his wrist, the bullets turning around with almost fluid grace.

"Sylar! _No!_ " He let the bullets fly, but he wished a moment later that he let them drop. A shadow blurred in front of the thug before it hit the ground with a pained gasp. The thug ran away, calling for his friend, as Ralys rolled on the ground, struggling to breathe.

He knelt beside her, both horrified and expectant. Will she die? From her wet coughs, he guessed a bullet pierced a lung. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth and tears dripped down her cheek.

"G-get me ins-s-side, asshole!" She hissed in between coughs. He scooped her up in his arms, checking to see if anyone saw them before rushing to his room, the smell of her blood filling his senses.

"Do you have a new name?" He asked her as he unlocked the door. She cried out as he jostled her, finally laying her down on the bed.

"I'm-m n-n-ot t-t-telling." She stuttered, her body trembling. Her skin was growing pale and her eyes were having trouble focusing on anything. Sylar's hands trembled as he tore open her coat and her shirt, using the fabric to mop up the blood pooling on her chest. He didn't know why he asked for her new name. Maybe to hunt down the bastard that threatened her? He didn't know why, but he knew she was his. She belonged to him.

He was trembling because he was excited, he told himself. He wasn't experiencing her wounds. It was her fault she was injured, not his. Maybe she will die, and maybe he'll finally get what he came for.

With surprising strength, she took his arm, digging her nails into his skin. "Not g-gonna d-die. N-n-need b-bullets out." The weightless feeling that filled his chest at her words was disappointment, not relief. He was disappointed.

"What happens if I don't take them out?" He asked, honestly curious.

"Then _you_ can't heal." The way she said it made his blood run cold, almost as cold as the tendril of energy he could feel creeping up his arm. No. It wasn't his fault. It _wasn't_! "Doesn't matter," she replied, her voice breathy. "You sent them flying. Couldn't let you..." Her head lolled to the side and her eyes were drooping shut. "...kill again." Her body sagged into the mattress, blood soaked into the sheets under her.

With a sigh, her powers crashed into him. The feel of it tearing through him almost felt like vengeance, demanding payback for its injured host. He was thrown back into a wall, pinned by an invisible force as his chest was torn to shreds, blood spurting and soaking into his clothes. He was losing too much. Too much, too fast. His vision was darkening and the ticking of a watch grew louder and louder until he could hear it alongside his own pulse.

 _Thump. Tick. Thump. Tock. Thump. Tick..._

The force released him and he fell face-first into the carpet beneath him. He was too weak to move. Too much pain. He tried to breathe through the blood filling his lungs, but his body was trying to do too much at the same time. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, then everything went black.

* * *

He woke with a start, his head pulsing in agony and his chest on fire. He could breathe, but only in pained wheezes. The carpet squelched under his cheek and his stomach rolled when he realized he was lying in a puddle of his own blood. He tried to sit up, the room spinning, but a sharp sting in his chest brought him back down with a cry.

He heard someone else panting and whimpering somewhere above him. He craned his head to see Ralys lying on her side on the bed, the sheets soaked red. Her face was pale and drawn as she looked back at him, her skin shining under a sheen of sweat. "It's about time." She gasped, flinching. "We need to get these out of me."

Sylar was shaking his head before he could stop himself. "Why should I?" He moved to get up again, but the open wounds in his chest pulled, making him crumple in a cursing heap.

"If we can't get the bullets out," she snapped, "we can't heal."

"It's your fault!" He bit out, his face twisted in rage. "If you haven't jumped in front of him-"

"He would be dead." She finished. She forced herself to roll away, badly suppressing sobs and the trembling in her body. "I couldn't let you do that, Sylar. I couldn't stand by and watch someone die."

Sylar bit back a growl, forcing himself to his knees. The pain was excruciating, but it helped clear his head enough that the room stopped tilting. "What was all that about anyway? Why were they attacking you?"

She shook her head, pushing the soiled sheets away from her. "I reveal the worst in people. You can imagine how few appreciate that. When they see me, they see what they're trying to hide. What they don't want to be. It freaks them out. It didn't help that I was the gunslinger's type: brown hair, brown eyes, unwilling, you know, the usual girl next door thing." Her voice was bitter, but Sylar knew the pain had a lot to do with it. Considering that the pain they both were suffering was her fault, he didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for her. Instead he shifted forward, yanking her closer to him with gritted teeth.

She hissed, curling away from his grip, but he rolled her back to him, reaching a hand out to hold it over the wound closest to her heart. The only warning he gave was tightening his fingers on Ralys' shoulder before he called on his powers, pulling the bullet out of her body. He clamped a hand over her mouth when she screamed, leaving her body free to thrash and writhe on the bed. In quick succession, he located the other two, summoning those as well, and for a long time, she screamed, muffled by his hand.

He braced himself as she reached out to him with icy tendrils, latching on to him, feeding him her agony, her suffering, and her absolute misery. The wounds in his chest grew bigger, deeper, and blood pulsed anew from both of them as they finally began to heal. Her cries died out as her skin knit back together, small pink scars the only evidence of the bullets being there. He still held the three bloody bullets in his hand when his chest healed, his first whole breath coming out as a gasp. He collapsed beside the bed, drained, sitting with his back to Ralys. He could hear her ragged breaths and almost feel her shaking through the mattress.

"I think I'm going into shock again." She mumbled, teeth almost chattering. He focused on his breathing, willing his body to right itself while she struggled to pull herself together. In. Out. The smell of blood permeated the room. In. Out. He could hear the hitch in her breaths as she sobbed. In. Out. The Hunger, for the moment, receded. He needed to get his strength back, which meant putting off his search for another day, maybe two. His fists clenched and his teeth ground together. He really had hoped the girl would die. The blood would have been fine, decadent even, if it was just hers. But now that his filled the room, too, it just made him sick. He yanked the thick comforter off the foot of the bed, throwing it over the drying puddle on the floor. Add bleach to the list of supplies.

He slowly stood, his knees wobbling, but his balance held steady. He looked down at the girl trembling on the bed. "You need a shower. After we've cleaned up, I'll take what I can to a laundromat and see if I can get this blood out. We need food, too. Blood loss takes it toll on you."

"How clinical of you." She muttered, slowly sitting up. The tremors in her hands slowed as she worked on standing, her shirts ruined and long gone, but so much blood that he could barely see what was underneath. She looked down at herself, then gagged. "I think you're right. If I had anything on my stomach, I would have puked just now. How are you so calm right now?! We look like a fucking horror show!" He could imagine just as much blood caked on him. It pulled at his skin and clothes as he moved.

"It's not the worst I've seen." He said honestly, with a small smile. "Now either I take a shower first or you. I can easily use all the hot water and soap if you want." She grimaced, stumbling over to the bathroom, but Sylar stopped her. "Wait. Strip." She whirled on him with wide eyes, shielding his midsection with her arms.

"Can't I do it in there?" She asked hesitantly, as if she knew the answer. Sylar confirmed her assumption by saying nothing. "Fine," she groaned. She disappeared for a moment to grab a towel, draping it awkwardly over herself as she wrestled out of her pants. When her blood-stained clothes were a pile on the floor, she kicked them over to Sylar, who noticed the bra and panties on top. When he looked up, she had already locked herself in the bathroom, the shower creaking on. He threw the clothes along with the bed's sheets on top of the comforter on the floor. His shirt and jacket were caked in dried blood so he quickly shed them, but then he realized his shirts were all he had. He only thought this girl would be a quick detour. Just come down, kill her, come back home, but now, that wasn't the case.

He walked over to the door of the bathroom, making quick work of the lock, before he walked in. Ralys swore loudly, pulling the curtain further shut as steam billowed out of the stall.

"Jesus Christ! What now?!" She snapped, clutching the curtain. He smirked as he turned on the sink faucets as hot as they could go, sinking his t-shirt in the water. The water instantly started turning pink as blood came out. "Couldn't that wait?!"

He shook his head, not looking up from the sink. "We need supplies. Bleach, clothes for me, and you need to buy them. I won't be able to go anywhere this bloody." He looked up then. Her head was the only thing visible around the curtain, her glare pinning him. _If looks could kill..._ "I've tried a few times, but something about being covered in blood draws attention."

"You don't say?" She responded dryly. Well, at least she was feeling better. She cleared her throat. "You said something about getting something to eat?"

"When I'm able to go into public, we'll take care of that. Until then, you need to finish up so you can go shopping."

"Has anyone ever accused you of being a dick? Murder, I get, but just being an all-around asshole? I don't think anyone's ever called you out on that." He chuckled, wringing out his shirt, but he could already see it was hopeless.

"Consider yourself lucky." He said, draining the water. He wrung out the shirt, seeing the huge brown-ish red stain spreading across over half of the gray shirt. "Most don't live long enough to form an opinion." He balled up the shirt, clenching it in his fist as he opened the door.

She didn't respond as he left the small room, so he shut the door, tossing the wet shirt onto the bloody pile before leaving the room, shirtless, to the SUV to grab Ralys' suitcase.

"Hey hey," a younger man grinned, unlocking the car parked next to his. "Must have been one hell of a woman to make you forget your clothes, man!" Sylar faked a laugh, but really wanted to punch his face in. It was just an honest assumption, easily believed in this run-down place, but just the fact someone spoke about Ralys like that set his teeth on edge.

"Something like that," he replied, pulling the suitcase out of the car. He walked back up to the room, catching hardly any glances as he passed by groggy patrons. Luckily, he had very little blood on his pants. Just a thick stain by one belt loop but other than that, it was doable.

He opened the door, pausing when he noticed Ralys kneeling by the dirty clothes, wrapped in nothing but a towel, picking through for anything salvageable. When she noticed him, she sprung up, clutching the towel to her. He noticed, amused, that she was honestly blushing from head to toe.

"Stop looking at me like that. I scrubbed as hard as I could." She shifted from foot to foot as Sylar scrutinized her. Then he noticed what he thought was a blush was just raw skin from her scrubbing. He felt another flare of anger rush through him. Blood was hard to get off but not so much that she had to scour herself.

"If a little blood makes you scrub yourself raw, then you made a grave mistake coming with me." was all he said, but what he wanted to do was see how extensive the damage was underneath that towel. His hands clenched on the suitcase and the doorknob before he got the nerve to shut the door. The silence that fell between them was thick and uncomfortable.

She ran a hand through her drying hair. "Can I have my stuff, please?" she asked quietly. He threw the suitcase on the bed, opening it for her as she crept closer, skittish.

"I'll be in the shower." He finally assured her, leaving the room. And if it looked like he was fleeing, she didn't mention it.

* * *

Ralys sifted through her clothes, pulling out everything she had that were big and warm. She clutched a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, clinging almost desperately to the fabric. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes stung as reality finally caught up with her.

This man she was with was a killer. She knew it wasn't out of cold-blooded cruelty. She caught a glimpse of the monster inside of him, and she loathed the day she saw it in its full glory. Her head ached in an echo of the man's pain, and she couldn't bring herself to relax. Her entire body was coiled to act, but to do what she didn't know.

She felt it the first time when he was on the other side of her bedroom door the other night. She was lying in bed, almost asleep, when his mind brushed hers. Instantly, her name had changed to Ralys, and she did not have the time or the patience to put up with his stealth when he might as well have brought a neon sign. The first sight she had of his face froze in her mind. He was a handsome psycho, she'd thought. His deep, brown eyes bored into her as if she was the answer to his salvation. He attacked her with desperation, and when he tried to kill her, she knew. She knew that it was all he could do. It was either her life or his sanity, and if the situation was reversed, she wouldn't have hesitated to kill him, too. When her power had reached out to him, mirroring her injuries on his body, she honestly felt guilty. This man was suffering enough, and now, she was going to be his ultimate torture? His greatest kill, his biggest prize, and he couldn't have it? His power, she knew, won't let him walk away. Her power won't let him have what he wants. The scenario reminded her of geology lessons in high school, when she called herself more names than she could count, where when two tectonic plates collided. One would either submit to the force, or they would eventually converge, or worse wear each other away.

She watched the shadow of Sylar move behind the bathroom door. Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time, simple physics. And their powers were so different, but both dominated everything around them. There was no way she was going to get out of this unscathed, and neither was he.

She was dressed, warm and secure, in her fleece pajama pants and an over-sized sweater she had left over from her days of depression, a lack of an identity could be a bitch on your self-esteem after a while, and she was curled up on the far end of the bed, pointedly staring away from the large red stains on the mattress.

He stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with a hand towel, and paused when he saw clothes laid out on the foot of the bed, waiting for him.

"They might fit a little weird, but they should work. I had a boyfriend about your size couple of years ago. I wore those a lot so he gave them to me. Wore them even more when all I wanted to do was hang myself." She showed no sign of distress as she said that, once again just stating facts, but Sylar could imagine the loneliness a power like hers would cause.

"Thanks," he mumbled, walking over to get a better look at the clothes. The pants were fleece, almost like the ones she wore, with superhero symbols and comic book pictures all over them. The t-shirt sitting on top of them was a size too big for Sylar, but he couldn't help but note the irony as he pulled it on, the big red 'S' emblazoned on his chest contrasting with the blue of the fabric. That was all she gave him, but he couldn't stop the little warm flickering in his chest as he pulled the pants up, awkwardly, under his towel. Her gaze averted as he pulled on the pants, a red flush sweeping up her neck to her cheeks. He chuckled and made sure to sit beside her, just to watch her grimace. "So ten years?"

She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. His eyes automatically followed the action, the warmth in his chest a little hotter. "At first, I thought it was an extreme case of wanting to fit in with the cool kids, but then I started reflecting my teachers, my parents, my friends. Long story short, I was pulled out of school pretty quickly. My teachers recommended psychiatric treatment, but my parents were hesitant. They knew it was something greater than that, but they eventually took me in to figure out what was wrong. Brain scans showed normal activity, but then again, not so normal. Every time I met someone new, my brain waves would alter to theirs, almost a perfect reflection of their minds."

Just her mentioning her brain almost forced him into her personal space, his hands itching to open her head, to see that beautiful power laid bare before him. She looked up at him knowingly, and he forced himself to stay still, guilty. She smiled wryly, shaking her head.

"Years ago, I would have begged for you to kill me. I'm too much of a coward to kill myself, trust me, I've tried. The funny thing is that that's the only way it can be done, unless I get sick. Everything else and everyone else can't touch me. My life is my own to end. No one else can. The trick isn't to figure out how to kill me, but how to get me to take that final step and do it myself." They stared at each other, and Sylar felt the urge to wrap her in his arms. Her confession made the monster roar in outrage. This just wasn't fair! She wanted to die. She wanted Sylar to find a way to make her so desperate for death that she would do it herself, but her will to live was strong. "I can help people, sure," she added. "But I'm living my worst nightmare." She stopped then, biting savagely at her lip.

"And what nightmare is that?" Sylar asked, curious. Was he her worst nightmare? Was her power her nightmare? What is this girl afraid of?

She looked away, her eyes shining through a sheen of moisture, but her body, he noticed, shook with suppressed rage. "Drop it, Sylar." She clenched her jaw, pressing her lips into a thin line. She shuddered, but looked back at him, carefully keeping her face blank. "So what's with this killed or be killed mentality you're projecting? It feels like if my heart doesn't stop, yours will."

It was Sylar's turn to clench his jaw. He stiffened and leaned away from her, clutching his hands together in his lap. Her gaze on him felt too invasive all of a sudden, too piercing. He felt like curling in on himself, to hide from her, but those thoughts were too much like Gabriel's, not his. Instead of hiding, he bared himself to her, "More or less. Luckily I've managed to kill the person I'm after before I find out." He knew he succeeded when she looked away, grimacing. Whatever she looked at caused her to pale. He followed her gaze to the soiled sheets and clothes.

Sylar once again thought of how remarkable it was that the human body could hold so much blood. Once upon a time, Gabriel had an aversion to blood. The spineless man would almost faint at the sight of it, a terrible inconvienence when working with metal parts and sharp tools, but as Sylar, blood meant a quiet Hunger. Blood meant a new power, something new to learn, and blood meant he was one step closer to becoming something special, something to be acknowledged.

"I think we should go to the store." She said after a moment. "You need some clothes and we need a lot of bleach. We need to all of that in hot water if we want to get the stains out. Questions are the last thing we want, right?" She didn't wait for an answer as she hopped off of the bed, walking purposefully into the bathroom, filling the tub with steaming water.

Sylar gathered the bloody things, half-focused on the task. The Hunger ached. He could feel it building inside of him, the smell of the girl's blood and the power pulsing in the cramped space of their room only fueling the desire to kill. The sound of her moving in the other room intensified until he could hear every breath she took, every beat of her heart.

* * *

When she stepped into view, she froze. Her eyes as she looked at Sylar were the eyes of prey, who'd just spotted their predator.

"Sylar?" She asked, unsure of the answer.

He felt his lips curl into a smirk as he stood, the stained fabric forgotten on the floor. He took a step forward, allowing his power to reach out, carding invisible fingers over her face, through her hair. She shuddered, but her face stayed blank.

The smell of vanilla wafted over him, flooding his mind, and the Hunger lashed out, pinning her to the wall with his telekinesis. Ralys gasped, instinctively struggling against her binds. His senses were rapidly declining, focusing only on her. He barely felt the bruise blossom on his lower back.

"Sylar," she tried again, "stop. It's not going to work, and you know it!"

"I know," he replied, his voice sounding distant. "I can't help myself, sweetie." His feet brought him closer, close enough that he could feel her shaking breaths on his face and her chest brush his as she inhaled. His fingers ached to press into her pale skin and he felt the strong urge to lean forward, to press his lips to hers. She saw something in his eyes that made her whisper his name in terror. He almost grinned.

"A cut on the arm isn't good enough, is it?" It was a question, but he could tell she knew the answer. He did lean forward then, the fear on her making her scent so much sweeter. He took a long pull, growling as he exhaled against her skin. The sound she made could have been a whimper, but he wasn't really paying attention.

"Sorry, honey." He said teasingly, but then something inside him reverberated with those words. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. He didn't want to kill her. No, what he was feeling was remorse, guilt. Looking into her eyes, he saw that she knew what he was feeling.

His hands glided over her body, her arms, across her shoulders, over her abdomen, and as he did, he felt his hands grow colder and colder, until the cold seeped into her body, stealing her heat. She bit back a sob as he interlaced his fingers with hers, freezing the blood vessels and joints in them. She cried out, trying to arch her body away from him. He released her hands, bringing his hands to either side of her neck, the heels of his palms joining over her windpipe. She stiffened, breathing harshly and coughing as the air in her lungs cooled. He felt the muscles in her chest tense and spasm as they fought the near-freezing temperatures in her body. She grew paler, her lips taking a blue tint.

She clutched his wrists, her fingers moving stiffly. Every bend in the joints caused a hitch or a sob in her breath, but she eventually took hold, her eyes never leaving his.

He knew the pain was excruciating, and that he would know it soon enough, but he couldn't bring himself to stop as he felt her energy envelope him, penetrating his hands, his chest, and his throat. He couldn't breathe. The air he inhaled was too thin, too cold. His throat ached as it clenched shut. His fingers stiffened in their positions, even the slightest twitch in his frozen joints caused a searing stab of pain to shoot up his arm. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and no matter how painful it felt, he couldn't find his voice to scream. As the pain in him grew, the hold of his power receded. She was gently lowered to her feet. He wished that he could rip his hands away so that the pain would stop, but he couldn't do it. Cryokinesis didn't work like that. He willed his hands to warm, the joints creaking and popping as they thawed. Sound gradually returned to the both of them in moans and gasps as their body heat grew warmer. She leaned heavily on the wall behind her, and he leaned heavily on her, his body crushing hers.

She shivered under his touch, hoarsely begging him to stop. He couldn't bring himself to move as he held on to her for support, clutching her body to him. As they healed, their body heat returned. He felt her body under his, trembling, her hands still holding on to his arms, and he swayed as all of his blood rushed south.

The Hunger in him purred like a contented cat, letting him hear something else growl in outrage. _You're a monster,_ it screamed at him. _She is yours to protect, not to torture!_

Ralys' voice, though quiet, was heard over the voice in his mind. "Was it worth it?"

He pulled back to look at her fully, and he couldn't see fear anymore. It was just a pained acceptance. They somehow stumbled on a way to sate the Hunger, for now, but he felt more than knew that next time would require more.

She may survive physically, but mentally? Emotionally?

 _So you do care..._ the voice remarked sardonically. Did Sylar care?

She pulled away from him, mumbling about running to the store for supplies. He didn't react, didn't move, as she grabbed a credit card from her suitcase, locking the door behind her, as if to protect _him._

Did he care about her? The thugs last night proved that he felt protective of her, but did he truly care?

* * *

Sylar was sitting up against the headboard, absently toying with a snag in the hem of the fleece pants he wore when she came back. Her arms were filled with grocery bags and in each hand was a gallon of bleach. She panted as she dropped the bags by the door, brushing her hair back from her face. Sylar's breath hitched when he saw the flush in her cheeks, and the way her eyes shone with the echo of the high that comes with a filled Hunger.

"I just got you some things about the same size as what you have on." She said, kneeling down to search through the bags. She pulled out a pair of jeans, throwing them on the bed beside him. "Are the sheets in the tub?"

"Yes," he replied, picking up the jeans. "The water got cold after a while so I had to refill it. One of those bottles of bleach should get the stains out." As he inspected the jeans, he grew shy, and his cheeks grew a little too warm for comfort. "Thank you, for the clothes." His voice was soft, his hands absently feeling the rough texture of the fabric.

"Look, Sylar-" _Gabriel_ , he wanted to correct her, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. "-this whole creepy-ass-psycho-killer thing needs an explanation. I need to know why you can't stop hurting me. And don't play it off. I know that you _can't_. Whatever has a hold over you is serious, and I think one of the reasons we met was so I can help you overcome it."

"There is no overcoming it!" He snapped. She nodded, as if expecting the outburst.

"Fair enough." She took the bags again, moving them into the little kitchenette beside the bathroom, unloading a variety of snacks and drinks, along with another pair of jeans and a few shirts. "You better go try those on. They're the only things you got for now."

He stood, holding the jeans in his hands, and as he watched her move around the little room, intentionally ignoring him, the answer to his question hit him like a blow.

He did care about her.

The knowledge made the animal inside perk his ear in interest. _A potential partner,_ it mused, _or another weakness we need to dispose of?_ Both the smell of vanilla and the smell of blood came to mind. Both the image of her gazing at him with those knowing eyes, but also writhing in pain as he hurt her.

He did care about her, and he was doomed...


	3. Chapter 3

He felt more than heard the urgency in his own words when he said, "We have to leave soon." She looked up from the steaming cup of ramen she was eating. She sat on the bed while Sylar sat at the table by the window, occasionally glancing out of the curtains by force of habit. Another day and a half had gone by with little incident. The Hunger still pounded behind his eyes and he knew it would be any day now before it rose to an unbearable level. His little tastes of Ralys were barely holding him, just a moment of peace before it returned as if it never left. She seemed to understand his tension. She had not been very relaxed herself.

"Well, now would be a good time for that talk, wouldn't it? Whatever is pounding in your head has been bugging me all night last night?"

Sylar hoped it was the Hunger she had felt, heat rising under his collar. His attraction to Ralys was growing, too, and he needed someone else to sate his Hunger. He couldn't hurt her anymore. His affection for her was becoming an even bigger issue.

 _She's special_ , the voice, which he belatedly realized was Gabriel Gray, insisted. _She deserves so much more than this! You're not worth the ground she walks on._

 _And you are,_ he asked the shriveling man. There was no answer.

"We need to track someone down. Someone like us." She perked up at that, setting aside her noodles as she listened.

"Another person with abilities? How many are there?" He fought the urge to smirk. _Enough to last me a century_ , he wanted to reply, but he already knew his brand of humor only disturbed her.

 _Peter Petrelli would like her_ , the voice in his head jabbed. He suppressed a snarl. As if that naive pretty boy could handle the darkness this girl has seen.

"More than you would think. I've been looking for them. Once you know where to look, it's quite easy to track them down." He didn't know what reaction he expected her to have, but he never expected anything rash.

With an exaggerated swish of her wrist, she sent Sylar flying across the room, using his own abilities to pin him to the wall.

"What the hell?!" He exclaimed, his body suspended diagonally over the dresser, pinned by invisible shackles.

She stood calmly, her face impassive as she held her hand extended, keeping him in place. He noted with alarm that she wasn't struggling to harness his telekinesis. She was too calm, too sure of her power.

"You want to kill them." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway, feeling like a bacteria under a microscope. He could break free, yes, but there wasn't a scenario he could think of where he wouldn't harm her. The minute her blood was spilled, the Hunger would want more. "What is this I'm feeling, Sylar?!" She demanded, her voice too breathy to fit her calm exterior. "What is this in my head telling me to cut you open? To learn your secrets?"

"It's telling you to..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The Hunger wasn't reacting to her, because she was channeling it. For the first time since he took on the name Sylar, he was afraid, truly afraid. If he could barely control it, it would power through her with zero effort. "Let me go, Ralys. I can help you."

"Tell me what the fuck this is! All I wanted to do was stop you, but the minute I used your power, it just crashed over me!"

"It's the Hunger. It's part of my ability. I have to learn things, new things, to keep it at bay. If I lose control, it takes over. Stealing other people's powers is the best way to get rid of it." She was shaking her head before he finished the sentence. She knew it was the truth, but denial was an ugly thing.

"No, there has to be another way. That's why you need to hurt me. That's why you found me in the first place. I knew you needed my power, but this is _insane_." He watched her visibly struggle to get a grip on herself, and he could feel himself being carefully lowered until he was sprawled awkwardly on top of the dresser. He hopped down, his hands trembling, and she collapsed to the ground, her body convulsing as she curled into a little ball. Sobs were torn out of her chest violently as she shook. He rushed over to her, hands hovering over her form, not knowing what to do.

"Ralys," his voice was too shaken and quiet to be Sylar's. He sounded like that scared little watchmaker again.

"Gabriel?" She suddenly asked, the tremors racking through her making her stutter.

"No, he's nobody." He replied. _I'm nobody._

"N-no he's not." She cried out, her hands flailing, reaching out for something. He felt warmth spread through his chest as he clutched her hands in his. Her skin was clammy and pale. "I need-" She sobbed.

"I know." Sylar replied, tightening the grip on her delicate fingers. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to her knuckles. She gave no reaction to the gesture when he realized what he done. "I'm so sorry." He pulled away, only releasing her hands after dropping another quick kiss to her palm.

She groaned as she convulsed again, and Sylar couldn't bring himself to move too far away. It had to be getting worse. There was no other reason for it. It shouldn't come this much, this severely. Perhaps it was because it was being split across two people or that their peculiar connection was somehow enhancing its strength. They needed help.

He stumbled over to the hotel's phone, his body trembling in a panic he's never felt before. His stomach lurched with every pained groan and sob that tore out of Ralys' throat. He hurried to punch in a number he's probably only seen in passing, but his ability of memory wouldn't let him forget.

It seemed to ring forever, the monotone of the signal grating on Sylar's ears. He watched Ralys squirm and pant on the floor, thinking about how once he would have enjoyed it, but now it made him sick.

 _"Hello?"_

The voice on the other end made him sob in relief.

"You have to help me." He blurted, his voice almost too loud in the room.

 _"Why should I, Sylar?"_

 _Gabriel!_ He wanted to scream, but he kept the protest silent.

"I can't control it. The Hunger has her, but it has nowhere to go. She needs you! _Please._ " He hated himself when he realized he was begging, his voice lost, but then he's noticed that a little pleading goes a long way with the right people.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. _"What does she need?"_

He had to quickly cover his mouth to keep back the bile that rose in his throat when she called his name, almost a scream. The curse on the other end of the line was proof that he could hear it, too.

"A victim."

He heard the other man yell for a taxi, before he spoke to Sylar. _"Give me a half hour. If I'm doing this, I'm going to need good stuff only my line of work can provide."_ The man on the line laughed humorlessly as he gave an address to the cabby. _"Tell me where you are."_ Sylar told him to address of the hotel and the city. There was another sigh. _"Sylar, I don't want any funny business. I should have hung up on you!"_

"You never turn away from someone who needs help."

Another humorless laugh. _"Yeah, I really need to work on that. I'll be there as soon as I can."_

"Peter," Sylar called before he could hang up. "Thank you."

 _"The fact that you're thanking me means you are in way over your head. Must be one hell of a woman."_ Peter Petrelli hung up before Sylar could reply. Another keen from Ralys pulled him back to her, propping her head on his knees, stroking her hair out of her face.

"We waited too long." Sylar foolishly thought he found a way to bypass the bloodshed, but now he knew he was just being an idiot. There was no hope for him. He would never be able to just exist. He knew he wasn't special, and he accepted that. He was only special because he fed on those who were special, a parasite to be exterminated. All he wanted was to just live his life. He had no idea how much he wanted a home, a loving family, and security, until he had to run, constantly looking over his shoulder, and fighting for his life.

"Gabriel," Ralys gasped. "It's you." She fought to keep her eyes open as her fingers reached up to brush his cheek. At the first touch of her skin on his, tears broke out in his eyes.

She was so special, so remarkable, and he tainted her. He ruined her. The darkness inside of him was now overflowing in her, demanding blood. He couldn't stop himself as he crumbled around her, kissing every part of her skin he could reach, clutching her hand to his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." Gabriel muttered over and over again, his security blanket of inadequacy and self-loathing draping over him, hunching his shoulders and curling his body protectively over hers.

Her eyes drooped, her focus drifting as she watched him fall apart above her. "Beautiful," she whispered. He looked back into her eyes, stunned. Her bleary gaze stared back, her eyes warm and filled with emotion. "Gabriel." His name was said so reverently, so softly.

"Ralys-"

"Caty." She said, a small smile on her face. "The name I was born with. It's Caty."

 _Gorgeous_ , he thought, trying to mop the sweat from her brow with his sleeve. "Caty." Her eyes were getting heavier as she struggled to keep them open. Gabriel felt physically ill as she slowly slipped away, her body going limp in his arms.

He felt his head splitting open and the ticking in his ears only enhanced the pain as he was dragged under with her. He fought to keep her in his arms, even as he itched to kill. He wanted so badly to destroy what was hurting her, but he knew the only one responsible was himself. He poisoned her with his curse, and there was nothing he could do for now, but he knew eventually he would have to leave her, for her own good.

Knowing that didn't help lessen the raw pain in his heart, but before he could pull away, before he could do anything, the room lurched violently to the side and everything faded away into darkness.

* * *

Finding the room was easy enough for Peter when he spotted the poorly treated, bloodstained sheets in a pile beside the door. He knocked twice, then knocked again when there was no answer.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he had the powerful urge to glance over his shoulder. It was unlikely that anyone could have followed him as he flew straight here, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched.

"Gabriel," he called through the door, something in his mind telling him to not say the name Sylar out in the open. "Are you in there?" He knocked again, a little louder. The silence on the other side was unnerving him as he shuffled in front of the door. He balled up his fist, banging loudly on the door. "Gabriel, give me a sign to know you're in there. Is everything alright?" He pounded the door again, before sighing. "I'm coming in!" He warned, making easy work of the door's flimsy lock.

He opened the door a crack, peering around it. "Sylar, is everything-" He cut off when he caught sight of the two sprawled out, unconscious, on the floor. "Shit!" He sped into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. He yanked his bag off over his head, moving quickly over to the girl lying near Sylar.

"Hey, sweetie, you alright?" He tried asking her, checking her body for injuries. She didn't respond, but when he checked her pulse, it was strong, albeit a little too fast for comfort. He checked her vitals, noting her breathing was forced and heavy, and her eyes shifted back and forth as if in a nightmare. When he checked Sylar, he was in the same condition.

He tapped Sylar's cheek with the flat of his palm, almost slapping him, "Sylar, come on, wake up. What happened?"

"Gab'rel?" The girl mumbled, catching Peter's attention. He came up beside her, helping her as she struggled to sit up. She held her head in her hands, whimpering. He brushed her hair back, quietly urging her to breathe and take it easy. Her eyes were screwed shut in pain and tears were leaking out of the corners.

"You're not Gabriel." She said it like an accusation. He nodded, firmly holding her back when she moved to stand up.

"Whoa, easy. Sylar's right behind you. He's unconscious, but right now, I want to make sure you're okay. My name is Peter Petrelli. I'm a nurse and I can help." Her eyes were still squeezed shut, her hands trembling violently as she held them together. "Can you open your eyes?"

She shook her head emphatically. "I don't want to."

"Is it the light? Does your head hurt?" He couldn't find any visible signs of trauma, but he's learned not to assume much. When it came to special people like them, he's learned to expect the unexpected.

"No and yes. I feel like I'm barely hanging on. I feel like if I open my eyes and see you, I'll snap."

"What's your name?" He asked, feeling the sides of her neck and the base of her skull for any internal injuries. As his fingers grazed her pulse point, she shuddered.

"Retep. My name now is Retep, but he's still in here. _It_ is still in my head." Peter felt a sense of dread in his gut, but he pushed it aside. Her name now? What did she mean by that? "I-I can't make sense of this. I _need_ something, but I don't know what."

Peter nodded, worried now that Sylar still hasn't stirred, but the girl, Retep, was working herself into hysterics, rocking back and forth. The empath couldn't stop touching her, wanting to comfort her, but the desperation and fear this girl was feeling was almost tangible as it pulsed out of her.

"I know you're afraid, but I need you to look at me. I promise that nothing will happen to you. You're safe with me and Sylar." _Did I seriously just say that?_ He thought. _Safe with Sylar?_ Well, there must have been truth with that because she relaxed, exhaling a shaky breath.

Her eyes stopped their frantic movement, eyelids fluttering, as she gradually opened them. Her body was tense under his hands as she slowly looked at him. Her eyes were large and brown, glistening with unshed tears, the skin around them red and puffy. They seemed to almost penetrate Peter as they took him in. He waited patiently as she adjusted, but then the sense of dread grew when her gaze snapped suddenly to a space just above his eyes.

"You have something I need, Peter." Her voice was quiet as she said it, but it was cold. Hearing it made Peter shiver as he fought to stay in place.

"What is it?" He asked. "Sylar said you needed me. Why?"

The smirk on her face was all too familiar, but it didn't belong to her. It belonged to the man lying on the floor behind her.

"Knowledge is power, Peter, and right now its power I need."

Peter knew to expect the unexpected, but he never expected the girl to send him sailing across the room with barely a twitch of her fingers. He certainly never expected her hand over his mouth, smothering his screams, as power carved through his head, blood dripping down his face and splattering onto the carpet.

When his cries died down into weary groans, she released him, roughly lowering him to the floor. As he distantly felt his back hitting the carpet, his ears buzzing and blinking blood out of his eyes, he noticed tears in the girl's eyes. Her body shook with suppressed sobs as she stared at Peter in horror.

"I'm so sorry. I can't stop it." She said even as she knelt somewhere out of his line of sight. He felt a painful tugging sensation in his head, but then everything went blissfully numb. He heard sickening squelching sounds and Retep murmuring apologies under her breath over and over again.

Peter stayed perfectly still. He couldn't move, even when he tried. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton and darkness crept on the edge of his vision, but it wouldn't take over. He felt like he was stuck in some sort of twisted sense of limbo. He managed to glance over when he saw something move in the corner of his eye, but he clenched his eyes shut when he realized the mangled mess of hair and skin lying on the floor was his scalp. He fought back the urge to vomit as the smell of blood filled his senses.

He felt tugging and pressure in somewhere deep in his head, and more than once he heard the girl turn away to gag.

"This is so fucked up!" She muttered under her breath. He braved another look at where his hair, skin, and part of his skull rested beside him.

He couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Gabriel woke to someone shaking him roughly. His eyes snapped open to Ralys', (Caty! Her name is Caty!) Caty's, face, alarm surging through him when he noticed her tears.

"What is it?" He rolled to his side, cupping her cheek. She leaned in to the touch for a brief moment before shuddering. "What's wrong, Caty?"

"Retep or Ralys, please. I have no clue who I am right now, but I know Caty is nowhere in here." She fought to control her emotions as she helped him up, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. Gabriel noticed they weren't alone when he heard someone on the other side of the room hiss in pain.

He looked at Caty when she flinched, "Retep?" He asked. She nodded. "Peter is here?" Her face fell and tears brimmed her eyes again as she nodded. He quickly moved to stand, her hands helping him stay balanced. Only when they slid in his grip did he notice the blood coating her arms to the elbows. "What's happened?"

The switch in her expression was like a dam breaking, and it all came pouring out, "Peter woke me up, asking me if I was okay. He kept touching me and looking at me and I could feel him _everywhere_. He was in here," She roughly jabbed at her temple, doing it twice with a grimace. Gabriel rushed to restrain her hands before she hurt herself. "He was in my head, but you're in my head, and _this thing_ is in my head. There's no room for me in here. I can't remember who I am. It's too much. I can't even tell you what my name is. It's never been like this. It was always just one person. I was overwhelmed, and then the Hunger took over, and all I could see was Peter's head, and I knew, _I knew_ , what I needed. What you needed. I sent him flying across the room and before he could hit the ground, I pinned him down and cut his head open." She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob. Gabriel didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms. She clutched to him desperately. "I can't focus." She admitted, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "There's so many people in my head. I can't channel you long enough to get this over with."

"Sylar," a quiet voice rasped. Gabriel looked over Caty's shoulder and saw Peter lying on the floor by the bed. His chest heaved with labored breaths and his fingers flexed into the carpet, digging his nails in the fibers.

Caty moved to look at him, too, but Gabriel held her tight, protecting her from the gruesome sight she created. The cap of Peter's head was lying by his face, a thick puddle of blood gathering under his exposed brain, the organ almost throbbing as it sent signals through Peter's body.

"His name is Gabriel." She said, as if for the hundredth time. How long has Gabriel been unconscious? Were they talking about him as she observed Peter's brain?

Peter's snort caused him to wince. "Gabriel," he corrected himself.

The watchmaker helped the Mirror to her feet, leading her back over to Peter, trying to shield her from the gore and the blood for as long as he could. When she finally saw it again, her body lurched with dry heaves.

"I can't do this!" She gasped, about to cover her eyes, but the sight of the blood on them sent her into another heaving fit. She pushed herself away from Gabriel, using the kitchen's counter to support herself.

"Do you still feel it?" Gabriel asked, noticing for the first time in what felt like eternity, he didn't hear the ticking of a watch or the uncontrollable desire to play in Peter's head. She nodded, her skin pale. He extended a hand to her, keeping his voice soft and his eyes warm. "Do you trust me?" It was a loaded question, Gabriel knew, and he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if she said no. What did surprise him was her saying yes. "Take my hand and I'll show you what to do."

Never in a million years did he think he would teach someone in this particular skill, but he led Caty back to Peter, forcing her to kneel beside him, away from the congealing blood in the carpet. He knelt in it, however, to make room for her. He guided her hands back to Peter's brain, Peter's labored breaths the only sound in the room, as he fought against the resistance in her arm. "What does it have you looking for? You said I needed it? What is it?"

She shook her head, finally allowing a finger to graze the frontal lobe. Peter squirmed, groaning. She yanked her hand back as if burned. "I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed. With a glance, Gabriel pinned Peter's body with telekinesis, immobilizing his vocal cords in the process. Caty noticed the change. "This is torture!" She accused. "This is sick!"

"You need to finish what you started. This Hunger? It will ride you until it gets what it wants, whether you're willing or not. it's not a choice between their death or yours. It's a choice of whether or not you want to be in control when it happens. You know me, you've seen what I can do. You're my goddamn reflection so for your sake and for Peter's sake, _be me_."

Peter's eyes rolled upward, listening to the exchange, trying to see what he could. He and Gabriel both watched as she steeled herself, reaching out to search through Peter's brain. Her brows furrowed in concentration before she pulled back with a curse.

"I can't focus!"

"What is your name?" Gabriel asked sternly, demanding her attention.

"Retep. No, Ralys. _I don't fucking know!_ " She screamed in frustration and Gabriel took her roughly by the shoulders.

"You are Ralys right now! Do you hear me?!" He shook her, pulling her eyes to his. "Channel me. Focus on me, focus on the Hunger, and you'll know what to do."

"I can't." She pleaded. Before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips to hers, silencing her protests. She froze, shocked, before hesitantly kissing him back. He made a sound low in his throat, feeling something uncoil inside of him. What was once hard and cold inside of him was now alive, bursting with warmth, and pulsed with each press of Caty's lips. His mind, his senses, his entire being centered on her, and as he pulled away, she tried to pull him back. He carefully pulled her away from him.

"What is your name?" He breathed, his lips tingling.

"Lierbag," and even though it was a new name, she said it with absolute certainty. She turned away from him, observing the brain with a new vigor. He could picture the same look on his face as he had been bent over numerous gears and timepieces, studying them, finding their secrets.

"I can feel it." She said, her palm hovering over the left hemisphere. "I _know_ it's there. I can't see it, though."

He leaned over her, head over her shoulder. "Follow the path. Focus of the synapses firing off, focus on the ticking in your ears. Forget about everything, except this. Make it everything."

She took a deep breath, centering herself, as her eyes slid closed, her hands slowly navigating over the muscle.

Peter's eyes were screwed shut, his breathing erratic, and his body tense under them. "Should've known stuff like this gets you off." He remarked dryly, trying to ease the tension.

Gabriel sneered, pressing his cheek to Caty's when she moved to pull away. "Focus." He reminded her gently. "What is it that you need?"

She continued to search, almost as if she was in a trance. "To save you." He opened his mouth to reply, but she jumped in his arms, a breathy gasp escaping. "I found it!"

"Good," he decided to let her comment go for now. There would be time afterwards to ask. "Picture it as a curl of smoke or a beam of light. Will yourself to draw it in." She nodded, her eyes still closed as she pressed the tips of her fingers against the far side of his mind. Peter jerked under them, grunting, as Gabriel saw a flash of something shiny and translucent gather in Caty's hand before it vanished with a curl of steam.

"What power did you take?" Peter asked through clenched teeth, groaning loudly when Gabriel replaced the cap of his head, letting regeneration heal the wound. Caty quickly stood, retreating from the blood and the men, hurrying into the bathroom and slamming the door. Peter's wounds reduced to an angry, red line across his forehead when they heard water running.

Gabriel held out a hand, helping Peter to his feet and then to the bed, where Peter sat. Peter pointed to his bag by the door. "I've got some painkillers in there. Figured I would need it. Just the aspirin for now, though." Gabriel went into the bag, pouring three pills into his palm, before giving them to Peter. Peter popped them into his mouth, swallowing them dry, as Gabriel went to make him a glass of water.

"I think someone is watching the place." He told Gabriel as he took the glass. Gabriel nodded.

"It was only a matter of time. Were you followed?" Peter shook his head.

"No, I flew here. Didn't feel like I was being watched until I got here. Me being here isn't helping anything out." Peter looked at the closed door of the bathroom, taking a sip of his water. "So, Retep? Lierbag?"

"She calls herself a Mirror. She has the ability to reflect those around her." Peter nodded thoughtfully, taking another measured sip.

"Leave it to us to fuck that up, huh? So what just happened...that was her being you?"

"In a way." He said, glancing at the door. "Her ability seems to be getting worse."

"So, what exactly does being a reflection mean?" They jumped when the door they watched open, the girl wiping her hands off on a towel. She looked at them knowingly.

"It means," she explained, "that you become exposed to who you truly are. Only a few, like Gabriel and Sylar, are true to themselves."

"And me?" Peter couldn't help but ask. She narrowed her eyes, perusing him.

"I don't know." She answered. She pointedly ignored the blood pooling by the bed to crawl over to the far side, curling in on herself. "The two of you are fighting to be in my head for some reason. I can't figure out who's who."

"Well, what's your real name?" Peter asked, holding the cold glass to his forehead, soothing the ache of his healing skull.

"She can't answer that," Gabriel spoke before she could. " _Her_ name is Caty. Whatever name she gives you is who she is reflecting." She closed her mouth and nodded, giving Gabriel a long stare before turning back to Peter. Peter gave her a warm smile, then glanced down at his glass of water. She couldn't help but give a small smile in return. She couldn't tell much about this man, but his sweet personality was obvious.

"Is it alright if I call you Caty?" He asked quietly, turning towards her. Gabriel stiffened, but said nothing.

She slowly nodded. "You can call me that, but there's no guarantee I'll answer it." They laughed quietly, but then jumped when they heard banging on the door.

* * *

Peter fought the pounding in his head as he stood, having trouble keeping his balance. He guessed having his head dissected messed up his equilibrium. Sylar, or Gabriel, whoever he was, approached the door, glancing quickly through the peephole before he rushed over to the dresser, shoving clothes into the duffle bag beside him.

"It's some of Bennett's men." Gabriel confirmed, hastily packing the bag. He retrieved things from the bathroom and kitchen alike, tossing them on top of the clothes.

"Are they here for you?" Caty asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, unsure if she was supposed to stand.

Peter and Gabriel shared a heavy look, before Gabriel tossed the duffel to him. He caught it and his own bag, looping the straps over his shoulders.

"I'll create a diversion." He offered. "The minute the coast is clear, you take her as far from here as possible."

"No!" She interjected, standing. Peter held her back as she moved to go to him. Her glare was one of betrayal. "If they're here for you, you need to run."

"They're here for you, most likely." Peter said, and Gabriel agreed. She looked back and forth between them, shaking her head wildly. Peter struggled to hold the girl in his arms. He dug his fingers into her arms, probably bruising her. He felt a cool breeze on the skin of his forearms, then grunted when finger-shaped bruises blossomed out of nowhere.

Peter looked up and saw Gabriel staring at his arms, brows drawn together in an expression he's never seen on the man's face. It was fear. "Get her out of here!" He snapped, and before either of them could protest, he launched himself at the door, blowing it off its hinges with his power.

Caty, Retep, Ralys, whatever the hell her name was, tried to launch herself at the door, screaming Gabriel's name. He kept his grip firm, waiting for chaos of shouts and bangs to move down the hall, before he drug her with him onto the walkway. She fought him, cursing and screaming, calling for Gabriel to come back as he launched more and more of Bennett's men away from them.

"Save her!" Gabriel yelled, not looking back. "You're the fucking hero!" Peter gritted his teeth, pulling the struggling girl back with him. Every time he gripped her too hard, or every time he caused her to stumble, he could feel it. He probably had bruises all over him by now. He would have to ask the girl about that.

Peter managed to pull her around the corner of the building, the second story ending in a set of stairs. They stopped when they saw guns trained on them from the ground floor. Some men started to ascend the stairs, large gleaming cuffs in their hands and syringes sticking out of their chest pockets.

He wheeled the girl around to face him, holding her shoulders firmly.

"Please," she pleaded. "They'll hurt him. He's changed. He's not that man anymore!" He shook his head, pulling her out of sight of the approaching men. " _Please_ , Peter!"

"He'll be alright, Caty-"

"Retep," she snapped.

"Whatever!" He said, "He's going to be fine." He pulled her further back, but then they heard men coming in from the other direction. They were going to be cornered soon. Peter eyed the rail in front of them, and the fifteen foot drop to the ground. He grabbed Caty's chin, pulling her gaze up to his. "I'm gonna need you to trust me. Do you?"

He felt another cool breeze ghost past his neck and her eyes narrowed. "You trusted me with your brain and your powers. I guess I can return the favor." She smiled ruefully. "You can't kill me, anyway."

"I don't plan on trying." Without further argument, he swept her up into his arms, cradling her to his chest. She looped her arms around his neck, hanging on tight. "Hang on." She nodded quickly and he held her to him as he took off into the sky. She shrieked in surprise, clinging tighter to him, her eyes screwed shut.

"I suppose," she yelled over the wind, "now would be a bad time to own up to a fear of heights."

Peter laughed, staring ahead as he aimed them towards New York. At least there he'll have a home-field advantage should they follow him. He didn't respond, but his arms held her just a fraction tighter. He noticed the bruises on his body healing, and as they healed, he felt her relax in his embrace.

"Don't worry," he finally said, feeling her fidget. She opened her eyes to look at him. They were as clear as the sky ahead of them, chocolate brown with a little bloom of green in the center. "I won't let go."

She nodded, a little uncertain, as she tightened her vice grip around his neck. Even with the wind whipping around them and the blood staining her clothes, she smelled like vanilla. Like the mornings of Nathan's birthday, where the only acceptable birthday cake was one made in their oven that morning by the cook. Peter always thought Nathan preferred it that way because then, for the rest of the day, the house would smell like vanilla, a fresh cake from the oven. As the smell filled his senses, he couldn't help but envy the reformed serial killer.

He couldn't help but think of the kiss Gabriel and Caty shared. He didn't see much of it, but it sure sounded like it meant a lot. Gabriel wouldn't have given himself up for just anybody. She was certainly something special.

 _Lucky bastard_ , he thought as the Empire State Building started growing on the horizon...


	4. Chapter 4

Peter answered the knock at the door, huffing impatiently when he saw Dr. Mohinder Suresh.

"It's about time." He snapped, letting the doctor enter. He led him to the bottom of the stairs of the Petrelli mansion, stopping Mohinder with a touch on his arm. "I thought you said it was only going to take a day to get here!"

"I'm sorry," Mohinder said automatically. He readjusted his bag's shoulder strap, his eyes glancing nervously around the room. "You said you found another person with abilities?" Peter nodded, keeping his eyes on the geneticist.

"There's something wrong with her. She's been unconscious for nearly a week. Sylar called her a mirror." The Indian's face hardened instantly, his lips in a firm frown.

"I'm leaving." He announced tersely, turning on his heel, but Peter rushed to the door, blocking his exit.

"You can't do that, Mohinder. I need your help." He pleaded.

Mohinder rolled his eyes, sneering. "If this has anything to do with that _monster_ , I want no part of it! If she is anything like Sylar, let her die."

"Who said anything about her dying?!" Peter demanded, squaring his shoulders.

Mohinder frowned deeper. "That is why you called. You wouldn't be asking for my help if she wasn't in danger."

"She is," he admitted, "but I don't think it's life-threatening. Not yet, anyway." He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, chewing at his bottom lip. "Look," he finally said, "yes, Sylar is the one who found her. He was wanting to kill her and take her abilities, but get this. _She wouldn't let him._ Sylar found someone who could not only survive him, but could torture him in the process. She used his own abilities against him. She used them against _me._ She was able to use our abilities and just one look at us was all it took to learn our entire lives. Sylar, or Gabriel, called her a mirror, and she _is_ a mirror."

"A mirror?" Suresh asked slowly, cautious. "Exactly what do you mean by a mirror?" Peter was stumped. He knew Sylar, Gabriel, whoever he was right now!, could probably explain it better. Since he only saw a glimpse, he had no idea what she was capable of.

A thought occured in his head, spurring him, "She said that she felt both me and Sylar in her head. I think her power absorbs the presence of the person closest to her and reflects it back. When I first met her, she was hurt, so I touched her. When she woke up, she was me."

Mohinder paced, shaking his head, "Do you mean physically? Was she a physical reflection of you? Like an actual mirror?"

Peter shrugged, mentally grasping at anything he could think of to describe it. "No, her power doesn't work like that. It's mentally. She takes on your personality, your powers, your _name._ When it was just me, her name was Retep. Peter backwards, but when she was around Sylar, she jumped back and forth between Ralys and Lierbag, Sylar and Gabriel. I knew Gabriel was a separate person, but that's not the point! Whatever Sylar does to her, happens to him. I grabbed her arm so hard, that I bruised it, when she pulled away, I had bruises, too. The exact same ones I left on her. Anything you do to her, happens to you."

Peter stopped, shaking his head, before turning to ascend the stairs. "You need to see it to believe it. She's up here. I need your help to wake her up." Mohinder, after a moment of hesitation, followed.

"Just to be clear," he called after Peter, speeding up to follow him as he walked through the maze of a house. "Why is she unconscious? If her power acts the way you say it does, why did she not regenerate with your power?"

Peter froze, his hand still on the railing. Suresh had to stop himself before running into him. When he walked around Peter to face him, he saw that Peter's face had fallen, showing the exhaustion and worry in his features.

"I think she tried to reflect all of New York at once."

* * *

Peter led Mohinder to a room at the end of the hall, opening the door to show what looked like a small clinic inside.

"Mom never liked going to the doctor, so we had to compromise." He remarked with a smirk as he led the geneticist in. Mohinder noticed he had everything he could need. The girl was lying on the sterile bed, a bed that was never made for resting. He could see Peter had to improvise as the too-short bed had a bar stool pushed up to the end, supporting her feet on a thin pillow. Peter had mananged to hook her up to an IV, and a basic montior, but not much else seemed to be done. "I haven't given her anything. I'm near her, so I think my regeneration is messing with her recovery. That's another reason why I called you." Just then, Mohinder noticed that Peter stayed by the door, arms crossed. "I think maybe if she reflected you, she wouldn't-" he trailed off, glaring at his shoes.

"Be overwhelmed?" Suresh offered gently. Peter nodded. Mohinder sighed, pulling his bag off his shoulder, and pulling up a chair next to his new patient. "Very well. I'll help her. I'll need you back when she wakes so she won't panic. If Sylar comes around, you can tell him to leave-"

"Sylar isn't here." Peter corrected, standing stiffer. "He gave himself up to Bennett's men, to protect her. There's no telling what the hell they could use her for."

"I suppose not." He replied, a little stunned. He looked at the girl lying in front of him. Her looks were ordinary. She was generally attractive, but Mohinder knew that that wasn't enough. This girl was capable of something extraordinary if she managed to rope both Sylar and Peter into her corner. "If she is showing no outward signs of trauma, then the trauma is most likely internal. I would guess the brain if her power is being affected. I'll have to run some tests to see what exactly is happening."

Peter shrugged, sagging with exhaustion. "Help yourself. I'll be right here."

"Peter," Suresh chided quietly, "You need rest. She won't wake up anytime soon. As a matter of fact, I will give her a mild sedative to suppress her brain activity so it focuses on recovery. It will be another day before she wakes."

Peter sagged further, as if recognition of his weak state made it unbearable. His eyes drooped where he stood, but he shook his head furiously, cursing under his breath.

"You must also leave the room until she wakes. If you want her to stop reflecting you, and to reflect me, then you need to withdraw from her. If proximity activates her ability, then you must stay away. I promise I'll have answers tomorrow. Please, Peter, take care of yourself so you can help her." That did it. A glimmer of determination and defeat shined in Peter's eyes as he slowly left, his eyes darting between Suresh and the girl. His eyes, before he left, lingered on the girl, before storming off, a door further down the hall slamming shut.

"The ability to reflect? Is that what this is?" He asked to the quiet room, the erratic beeping of the monitors the only sound. He pulled a syringe from his bag, prepping the vein in her arm. As he tied the rubber tie shut on her upper arm, he felt his arm break out in pins and needles, like something was restricting his blood flow. He shook it off as nerves as he cleaned the area. "There's a bit of a draft, don't you think?" He said to himself as he felt cold air brush the skin of his arms, the flesh breaking out in goosebumps.

He pressed the needle into her arm, drawing a vial of blood. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous as he undid the tie, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, getting it over with before he caused her any unnecessary pain. He felt something drip down his arm as the wind chilled him again, but he ignored it as he finished drawing blood, his arm quickly feeling numb. He drew away, capping the vial and labelling it, before finally looking down at his arm. His heart sank when he saw his forearm dripping with blood, the blood running quicker than it should have. He tried to find a wound, but there was nothing he could see under all the red. He hurried to the cabinet, pulling out a small towel to wipe off the blood, and when he did, he paused. There was a small pinprick inside his elbow, right into his vein, as if-

He looked back at the girl's arm, where her identical pinprick was oozing a small drop of blood. He stared at his own arm in horror. He did not attack her, but he sustained her wounds anyway. This much blood should not have come out of a wound so tiny. _Unless it was forced out,_ his mind whispered. Not that the needle was gone, her wound scabbed over quickly, his own doing the same. He hastily finished cleaning the blood off of his arm, mopping it from the floor from where it dripped.

Mohinder was at a loss of what to do. He couldn't give her the sedative now. It would just as surely affect him. If her power could make his body expel a whole vial of blood from a wound the width of a needle, what else was she capable of doing?

He sat beside her for what felt like days, but was probably only an hour or so, staring at the small sample of blood in his hands, when Peter hesitantly knocked, in fresh clothes and hair wet from a shower.

"Hey," he said, "I know I'm not supposed to come back yet, but I wanted to see if everything was okay?" He left it as a question, and Mohinder couldn't lie.

"I can't give her the sedative, Peter. I took her blood, and-" He gestured to the bandage inside his arm and the bloody towel in the corner. "You were right. Whatever I do to her, will happen to me. I don't know how much I can do to help her without hurting myself in the process."

"A crazy part of me thought you would somehow be immune," Peter mumbled, chuckling. "Here," he said then, walking forward. "Give me the sedative. You said I need rest anyway."

"I can't," Suresh said, standing, carefully placing the vial on the tray next to him. "The minute you approach her, she'll have regeneration. You'll both burn through the sedative too fast."

"The minute I drop, drag me to the nearest bed." He replied, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. "You can't do it, but I can. Let me have it." They stared each other down from across the room, before Mohinder sighed, snatching up another syringe, handing it to Peter.

"I'll walk out the door. Wait five minutes, then inject her. We need to be sure her power reaches out to you instead of me." Peter nodded, uncapping the injection. Suresh left the room, waiting just outside the door. He heard Peter whispering to the girl, but he couldn't make out what was said. The only words he caught was 'Gabriel' and 'kill' before he heard a loud thud in the room.

He waited for a breath, counting sixty seconds and when he couldn't hear anything else, he quickly entered the room, going straight to Peter, who was unconscious on the floor by the girl's bed. He begudgingly dragged Peter out of the room, thankful they were the only ones there as he slowly moved Peter to the other open door, which turned out to be Peter's room. He struggled to pull Peter into his bed, arranging him under the blankets before returning to his patient.

The girl remained unconscious, but the slowing beeps of the montior told Mohinder that the sedative had worked. He plucked the sample of blood off the tray, emptying the supplies from his bag, and arranging them along with the computers and machines already there, beginning a long night of research. He would have answers tomorrow. Not because he had to, but because now he wanted to know what on God's earth he was dealing with!

* * *

Peter stood over Caty, gingerly holding the injection in his hand, as Mohinder left. He stood there, fidgeting, as he waited the five minutes the geneticist suggested, making sure her power was reflecting the right person.

As he looked at her peaceful, resting face, he felt his heart give an awful lurch. Leave it to Sylar to find something to taunt Peter with. The worst part is he doesn't even know.

"I don't know you very well," he started, his voice low, "and I don't know how well you know me, but I know that you are different from everyone else I've met. I felt you in my head, learning my entire life in seconds, and you looked at me with so much... _understanding_ , that I couldn't help but think twice about you. I thought you were just someone who Sylar was using for their abilities, another victim, but you knew exactly who he was, and what he's done, and you understood him. Every now and then, I see flashes of your life. In my dreams, I see people who's hurt you. The people who's died trying to kill you. You've seen so much darkness in the world and you still try to understand why we do what we do. You have an ability that can help people, and you're sacrificing who you are to use it." He laughed without humor, bordering on hysteric. "Gabriel is going to kill me if he ever finds out. Sylar will probably do it just to eliminate the competition, if there is any. I think I'm starting to like you. I'm not going to say I'm falling for you, but I think if I stick around, it could very easily happen. Your power makes people see who they really are, that's what you said, and I think that's why Gabriel was meant to call me. I have no idea who I'm really supposed to be, so maybe if you show me who I am without anyone else's influence, I might find out. Any person who could make Gabriel completely change like that is certainly special. He is lucky. I don't have anyone that cares that much about me." He took a deep breath to steady himself as he moved over to the IV, sticking the syringe into the external port. "I'm sorry this happened, Caty. I'll do whatever it takes to get you back to Gabriel. You're the second chance he needs." He slowly pressed the plunger, watching as the drugs gradually dripped down the IV.

The effects were almost instant as his head swam, his vision going fuzzy and his heart pounding in his ears. He barely pushed away from the bed before he collapsed to the floor, his vision quickly going black... _Peter_ , was the last thing he heard before the world fell away.

* * *

 _Caty held tightly around Peter's neck as the slowly approached a bustling city, the buzz of cars and people almost like a beehive as they landed on the roof of the Deveaux Building. Peter smiled as he helped Caty back to her feet, steadying her as she wobbled uncertainly, his face flushed and his hair windblown._

 _"Still alive?" He teased, laughing at her grimace. She shook her head, looking green around the edges as she suddenly slumped. "Caty?"_

 _Her head started shaking frantically, her skin going pale as she mumbled 'no,no,no!' under her breath. "Caty?" Peter asked again._

 _She looked up, her eyes wide and dilated, and Peter suddenly felt like he made a terrible mistake. "Caty, are you okay?"_

 _"My name isn't Caty!" She blurted, curling her body until she was on the ground rocking back and forth. "It's Retep! No! It's Newo! No it's not! It's Werdna!" She began to hyperventilate. Peter took her by the shoulders, kneeling in front of her. "I don't know!" She lunged at Peter, wrapping her arms around him. He held her tightly, rocking with her, trying to calm her, but everything he tried didn't work as she continued to panic. "I don't know who I am! Who am I?_ _ **WHO AM I?!**_ _"_

 _Peter shushed her, whispering comforting words to her, "Your name is Caty. We came to New York to get away from the men who took Sylar."_

 _"_ _ **Gabriel!**_ _" She shrieked, pulling away from him. The voices in her head rose in volume and intensity as she walked away from Peter. So many names! So many people in her head! "Wait!" She cried, dropping to her knees. "Where am I?" Peter came back to her, laying a hand on her shoulder, but she recoiled, staring fearfully at him. "Who are you?!" She looked at her own hands, then clutched her head with a scream. "Who am I?!"_

 _Peter forced her to look at him. "We'll get help, Caty. I'll call a friend and he'll help you control your abilities."_

 _"You don't understand!" She snapped, rolling away from him. She stayed on her side, curled on the ground as she sobbed uncontrollably. "I can hear them! All of them! I-I-I can't!" She arched her back, screaming loud and painfully._

 _"Peter!" She called then. "Kill me! Please!" Peter pulled her into his arms, hanging on to her as she violently thrashed in his grip. "Kill me!"_

 _"I can't, Caty. We'll figure this out!"_

 _"_ _ **KILL ME, DAMMIT!**_ _" She screamed again, then she couldn't stop screaming and struggling in his arms as he held on. Tears gathered in his eyes as he watched her suffer, completely clueless as how to help her. He gripped her tighter, trying to comfort her, when she suddenly passed out, her body going completely limp. The tears escaped as he panicked, thinking she was dead, but then he checked her pulse, noting it was weak, but still there._

 _He fought back the huge emotions building in his gut as he picked her up. He allowed himself to give her a small peck on her forehead, pressing his lips to her sweaty temple, before retreating to the Petrelli mansion, hoping it was enough to hide her away from the population of New York..._

* * *

Peter staggered into Caty's room, still a little dizzy from the drugs when Mohinder rushed him, his eyes bright and manic with excitement.

"You won't believe this!" He exclaimed, pulling Peter over to his work station, where models of DNA strands were rotating on the computer monitors. Suresh hands flew over his station, gathering charts and papers, thrusting them into Peter's arms. Peter struggled to keep them as his hands sluggishly accepted them. His brain felt like it was moving at a snail's pace and his body was responding way too slowly for Peter. "This is astounding!" Mohinder took a printed diagram of what Peter suspected was a model of Caty's DNA and shoved it into his face. "Her genetic make-up is unlike anything I've seen, including yours. I thought all of you were the latest generation of evolved humans, but I was very wrong. This girl-"

"Caty." Peter corrected.

Mohinder nodded, "Caty's genes are the beginning of a new generation. If I'm right, she is the next step of our evolution."

Peter forced himself to stay upright as he processed the information, but right now, all he wanted to do was pass out again. So somehow, he and Sylar stumbled on to the newest line of specials? A newer species of human? "So what does that mean?" He asked dumbly.

"It means that her powers, what you've seen, is only the beginning. If I'm reading this right, her powers are in the stages of infancy. Do you see these?" He asked, pointing to some of the highlighted markers in her DNA strand. Peter shrugged. He was a nurse, yeah, but genetics was never his thing. "It means that we haven't even scratched the surface. If her powers advance, she will be able to become anyone, _find_ anyone, and if they continue to grow, she will not only be able to use your abilities, she may even find a way to keep them. So far, she is the most powerful being we have ever seen. More powerful than you. More powerful than Sylar. If she learned how to use her power properly, no one could hide from her. You can never escape your reflection."

Peter felt a hammering in his throat as he was suddenly overwhelmed. Most powerful in the world? The first thought that occured to Peter was how much trouble this girl was in. What Sylar unwittingly walked into.

"Sylar was trying to kill her for this power?" Mohinder asked after a moment. Peter jumped, taking his eyes off of Caty to look at him. The expression on his face must have said enough. "You said he couldn't."

Peter shook his head. "No, he seemed pretty impressed with her." _Not to mention he loves her_ , he thought bitterly. Mohinder frowned, sensing Peter's aversion. Peter hurried to change the subject, "What do you think she's capable of?"

Mohinder looked down, taking back the papers in Peter's hands, shuffling through them until he pulled out a list, handing it back to him. The list was longer than Peter thought it would be, taking up an entire page of paper.

He read over the theories, perusing the little side notes scattered between the lines, "Location through reflection? What's that?"

"Wherever a person is in the world, she can track them by their reflection. She can use any reflective surface to locate whoever she wants. It's hard to explain. We'll just have to watch it when the time comes." Peter nodded, scanning further down the page.

"You think she'll be able to shapeshift?" He asked, pointing to one of the small notes.

Mohinder shrugged. "I don't see why she couldn't. Her mind reflects others the same way you have the power to replicate other's abilities. Her DNA is in a constant state of change. You said that she reflected you and only you by touch. Her DNA was exposed to yours, rapidly replicating its signature through her until she was, for all intents and purposes, you. It's only a small leap that her physical appearance adapts to yours. It would probably take much practice and effort on her part, so I don't think she would do it often, only if it was needed."

"But what about-" Peter started, but stopped when he heard a breathy moan coming from Caty.

"We'll discuss this later." Mohinder stated with no argument as he rushed over to her bed. Peter followed, helping Suresh check her vitals, and make sure she was responding okay. "Caty?" The geneticist called softly. "Is that your name? Caty?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, even though her eyes stayed closed. Peter left a hand on her arm and Mohinder was brushing her hair back from her face, waiting for her to speak.

"I don't know." She finally groaned, her voice dry. She flinched, her eyes clenching tight. "It hurts."

"I know it does, darling." Mohinder cooed, glancing at Peter. Peter shook his head, keeping quiet. "But you need to wake up to see how you're feeling. We need to know what has happened so we can fix this."

"There's two of you. I can feel you." She grimaced, shaking her head. "It's too much." Peter looked up to see Mohinder's firm gaze on him, then pointedly looked down at his hand on Caty's arm. He snatched it back quickly, forcing his body to move a few steps back as Mohinder carefully kept his hands on her. He did it clinically. Checking her pulse again, moving stray bits of hair from her face, smoothing the IV cord that wound around her arm. She finally opened her eyes, slowly, her gaze immediately locking onto the geneticist.

Mohinder smiled gently, bowing his head quickly, "My name is Mohinder Suresh. What is your name?"

"Rednihom. You didn't make it an easy one." She said, smiling awkwardly. Mohinder laughed, nodding.

"Yes, I guess you would prefer a less complicated name."

She grimaced again, shifting her weight. "Where am I?"

"We're in New York City. Peter brought you here-"

"Peter?!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. She sat up in the bed, taking Mohinder's hand. "He's here?! Where?"

"Right here." Peter said from the other side of the bed. She looked around wildly, before her eyes landed on him. He came up to her, barely hesitating before pulling her into his arms, the warmth of her body seeping into his, making him release a sigh of relief. "I was so worried."

"It's okay." She said, but she clung to him, shaking. "I'm fine now. I just have a really bad headache." She pulled back, looking at him with that same all-knowing stare. "I heard you, last night, I mean. I heard your voice in my head. You project your thoughts pretty strongly."

Peter felt his heart sink and his skin turned cold. "I do?" He felt his cheeks heat up, and the only thing he could think was, _Gabriel is going to tear me apart, let me heal, and do it again!_ She nodded, a smile picking up the corners of her mouth. He quickly squashed the urge to kiss them.

"You do." She said, but her piercing eyes said a whole lot more. What it was, though, Peter didn't know. "You and Gabriel have a lot in common, you know? His mind reaches out like yours. It happens when someone needs to be understood."

Mohinder cleared his throat, making Peter's cheeks heat up again as he pulled away from Caty. She curled in on herself, as if cold, but turned back to Mohinder with her chin held high. "Is your arm okay?" She asked Suresh, looking at the small bandage still on her own arm.

Mohinder nodded, showing her the almost invisible pinprick inside of his elbow. "It gave me quite a scare at first, but I can't say I wasn't warned."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice quiet, and the men could hear she truly was.

"That's quite alright." Mohinder replied with a smile. "Part of this is to help you learn to control your abilities. That includes your involuntary reaction to pain. It is your power's way to protect you. I can assure you, after drawing your blood, I thought twice about doing anything else." He seemed to say the right thing as she relaxed, nodding. "Now, would you like to discuss what happened when you fainted?"

"I wouldn't call it so much fainting as a total system meltdown." She remarked dryly. Peter couldn't help but nod in agreement. Mohinder glanced at him, then back to her as she continued, "We landed on some roof, and then everything just hit me at once. I could hear thousands of voices and I could feel people's minds pressing in from every direction. I couldn't think. I was lost. I couldn't remember my name. I barely recognized Peter, and all I wanted to do was die. It kept hitting me in waves until finally everything went black."

"Peter, have a seat." Mohinder said, pulling a chair up to Caty's bedside. Peter slowly moved to it, sitting down. Caty reached out to grab his hand the moment he was close enough, and Mohinder ignored it as he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Would you like to hear what I think happened?" They shared a look before nodding to the geneticist.

He sighed, "I think you suffered as long as you did because your mind was pulling on Peter's power of regeneration to protect itself. It healed the damage almost instantly, only to expose you to the trauma again, hence the waves. If it weren't for the regeneration, you would have passed out instantly. I think your powers are starting to grow. The fact that Sylar found you and brought you to us is probably just a coincidence, but I believe if he didn't, you would have probably been driven insane, possibly died from the strain of everyone's minds."

She nodded solemnly, saying nothing in reply, but her hand tightened on Peter's, trembling. He tried to send comforting thoughts, scared that he would open his mouth and say something stupid. She gave him a warm smile, and he knew it worked.

"Is your name still mine backwards?" Mohinder asked, pulling her attention back to him.

After a moment, she shook her head. "No, it's all fuzzy. It's like I can't decide which one of you to reflect." Suresh nodded.

"I thought so. The proximity of your power is expanding. Touch solidifies your connection, but multiple people in the same room could quickly become overwhelming for you. I also believe others with your ability would be harder to maintain a connection with." She tensed, frowning.

"Others with my power?" Suresh nodded. "Who else has my power?"

"I do." Peter spoke up, squeezing her hand in a comforting gesture. "I can absorb other people's abilities."

"Like Gabriel?"

"No!" Mohinder and Peter said in unison. "No," Peter said again gently, shooting a warning glare at the doctor. "You've seen the way Gabriel-"

"Sylar," Mohinder corrected.

" _Gabriel_ ," Peter said with emphasis, "You've seen the way he replicates abilities. I'm different. I'm an empath. I can absorb powers through touch. Mohinder says it works the same way as your reflecting ability. Our DNA changes to mirror the signatures of others, giving us their ability. Gabriel's ability is intellectual. He dissects our abilities and study them to see how they work. After he does that, he has them somehow."

"He's a murderer. A cold-blooded monster."

"You're not helping," Peter glared at Mohinder, clenching Caty's hand. Caty fought not to glare at the nice doctor. She could understand why some would say that about Gabriel. She pulled her hand away from Peter, focusing on the Indian in front of her.

At first, everything still felt fuzzy, but as she centered her mind on Dr. Suresh, soon she could feel the brush of his mind alongside hers. He stumbled back, his eyes wide.

"I can feel you in my head." He said, stunned. She heard Peter laugh under his breath, but she ignored it as she focused harder, closing her eyes. His mind was warm, like an unforgiving sun in the summer, and shimmering as if the sun was shining through stained glass.

"This is new," she gasped, feeling his mind surround hers like an open room lined with windows.

"What do you see?" Suresh said both out loud and in his mind. She couldn't hold back her laugh as she started hearing his thoughts.

 _The man killed my father...His dead eyes stared into mine as he held a gun to my head, demanding the antidote to the Shanti Virus...He just shot Maya, without a hint of remorse...He terrorized Molly, she had nightmares for weeks after that...He won't stop until he's dead!_

 _Are you reading my thoughts?_ His voice was amazed, his expression showing the absolute shock of her power.

A touch to her shoulder pulled her out of the warm, bright kaleidoscope that was Mohinder Suresh's mind. She opened her eyes to see Peter's face, and she couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. He gave a crooked grin, his eyes warming until they were almost melting.

"I could hear his thoughts. I could never do that before." His grin pulled wider, the left corner of his mouth throwing the smile off balance as it pulled down.

"That's great!" He said, and she could feel that he was as thrilled as she was.

"Can I try you?" The smile faltered, his cheeks turning pink. She blushed when she realized why he was suddenly uncomfortable.

But before she could open her mouth to tell him never mind, he nodded. "Yeah. You said I was hiding something. I'd be lying if I said I knew what it was."

"Are you sure you want to know?" She asked then. That was not a good reason to look into your mind. "Most people don't like what they find."

He shrugged. "I know I'm not a killer. I'd also be lying if I said I never cried watching that pig movie _Babe_." He knew his aversion worked when she laughed, despite her worried gaze. "Go ahead. I'm sure I can handle it."

She reached out a hand, feeling the need to stabilize their connection through touch, when Mohinder stopped them. "Be careful, Caty. You've never encountered another with your ability before. We don't know how you will react." She nodded, but she honestly couldn't see how two mirrors facing each other would be dangerous. You would just get a reflection of a reflection, right?

Peter met her hand, intertwining their fingers as she focused on the warm brown of his eyes, feeling him draw her in. While she caught Mohinder unexpected, Peter was prepared, welcoming her mind into his, and soon she was almost thrust into his headspace.

Peter's mind was the skyline of New York, on a rooftop, with a small swingset set to the side. He was sitting on one of the swings, gliding back and forth easily.

 _How are you here?_ She thought, but her voice echoed the question around them, startling her. He shrugged, playing with the rusted chain of the swing.

 _I honestly don't know. Maybe I'm combining your power and Matt's power. Matt is a mind-reader._ She nodded, sitting on the swing beside him. He bumped her shoulder with his, swaying. _I didn't really focus on location, but it makes sense. Whenever I want to be alone, I aim towards the sky. The higher the better._

 _Ever tried the Empire State Building?_

He chuckled, bumping her shoulder again. _No, too many people, too windy, cameras everywhere. I tried to practice flying here._

 _How did that work out?_ He grimaced, kicking at the dirt packed under their feet.

 _I fell, flat on my face._ She laughed, mumbling 'ouch'. He smiled, shaking his head, then sobered, looking back at her. _So, know what I'm hiding, yet?_

She didn't answer, instead she closed her eyes, focusing on Peter's mind as it started to spin around them. The landscape of New York fell away, leaving them in a endless white space, Peter's thoughts spinning around them like a vortex.

She felt Peter clutch her arm, as if afraid he would be swept up in the whirlwind of sounds and colors. She felt her concentration falter, the new grip she had on her abilities slipping through her fingers.

 _I'm losing it!_ Her voice screeched in panic as the colors spun faster and the sounds grew louder. She could vaguely hear Dr. Suresh calling their names. Something shoving her shoulder roughly, but she couldn't pull away. Peter held her in a vice grip, pinning her in his mind.

 _Hey!_ He called over the roar of his thoughts. _Look at me. Let me help._ She slowly opened her eyes, Peter's eyes inches from her, his hands keeping her grounded in the frantic storm of his memories. She felt him draw her power through him, and then she felt a cool breeze glide along her skin as he mimicked her ability, reflecting herself back to her.

She cried out as a sharp spear of agony shot through her. Peter gasped, his firm grip loosening. Peter tried again, and along with the pain making them scream, their thoughts combined, echoing around them. She knew she was hallucinating, because now there were hundreds of Caty's all around her, each with their own Peter.

 _Can't can't can't can't control control control myself myself myself myself myself. Need need need to to to to to to to get get out out out out out!_

Caty screamed again as she was violently yanked back, her eyes flying open to see the Petrelli mansion reform around her. She focused in time to see Peter slump in his chair, collapsing to the floor. "Peter!" She cried, alarmed. She struggled against Mohinder's grip, feeling his mind project outward, but the brush of it against hers caused her to seize, shrieking in pain.

She was roughly forced back into the bed where Mohinder strapped her down as she thrashed and bucked.

"Caty! Caty!" He called, touching her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet his. The brown was all wrong, Caty realized. They weren't warm. They were faceted like a jewel, but cold, clinical. She recoiled from him, leaning as far as she could over the side to see Peter, still sprawled on the floor, a thin line of blood trickling from his nose.

"Peter!" She screamed, pulling against her binds. Suresh hissed as the abrasions of the straps broke out over his own wrists. "Peter!"

Mohinder swore as he secured Caty, rushing over to Peter to check on him. He has already started to heal, the blood under his nose drying. Her screams for Peter and her wild shudders made his decision as he grabbed another sedative from his work station. She ignored him, crying out for Peter, as he injected the drugs into her IV, glancing twice to see if she hadn't ripped it out. He barely managed to toss the syringe aside and sit on the ground, his back propped against his desk as his brain turned fuzzy, the drugs pulling him under as Caty's cries dulled into whimpers. She finally fell silent as the world went dark around him.

* * *

Peter groaned as he woke, his body aching on one side and his head throbbing. He couldn't remember being in this much pain since he fell off that fifteen-story building. He opened his eyes, the dim light in the room spearing his head like a blade. He winced, cursing. His head tingled, the sensation of pins and needles inside his skull, and as he sat up, the aches in his side faded.

The room around him was eerily silent, the only sound being the hum of the computer monitors at Mohinder's desk. Peter paused when he tasted dried blood on his lip. He pulled his sleeve down, wiping away the red crust under his nose.

His first thought was of Caty. He remembered her being in his mind, then everything had went to Hell. He had tried to reflect her, but then the next thing he knew was pain, then everything went black. He either heard or dreamed that Caty was calling his name. He couldn't recall how he ended up on the floor, or why the hell Mohinder was unconscious on the floor, too?!

"Mohinder!" He called, crawling over to him. The geneticist was leaning against the cabinet next to Caty's bed, his head hung bonelessly in sleep. Peter moved closer to him, checking to see if it was only sleep and not anything life threatening. "Mohinder." He tried again, shaking the man. "Mohinder, wake up! Caty is hurt!"

Suresh mumbled under his breath, his head lolling side to side in Peter's hands. His eyes were rolling under his too-heavy lids. Peter knew then that Mohinder knew something happened, and it was bad enough that Caty had to be sedated again.

Peter stayed by Mohinder's side, alternately calling his name and shaking him to pull him out of his haze. His eyes were open, though it was nearly impossible to focus, and his breathing sped up.

Finally he spoke, "You reflected her, didn't you?" The tone, though accusing, was breathy and strained. Mohinder's eyes drooped again, as if it took all of his energy to talk.

Peter looked away guiltily, shrugging. "She was panicking. I didn't know what else to do."

"Wh-" He panted, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He opened them again, and he looked more lucid. "What hap-happened?"

"We reflected each other, and then everything went crazy-" Mohinder nodded, a slight jerk of his head, as if he was expecting the answer. Peter helped the doctor to his feet, pulling him into the chair he was in earlier. Mohinder sat heavily, still panting. He violently shook his head, reciting both chemical formulas and Hindu words under his breath. Peter waited as he pulled himself together, shaking off the echoes of the drugs in Caty's body. Peter shivered when a cool breeze crawled up the back of his shirt, raising goosebumps on his back.

"Peter," Caty croaked, her voice barely there. Peter rushed to her side, taking her hand in his. Mohinder stayed where he was. Caty's face was ashen, sweat cooling on her forehead. He sat beside her, holding her hand tightly, projecting comforting thoughts through the timid connection he could feel building between them. She winced, attempting to pull her hand back, but Peter held on, not wanting to lose what little he could feel of her. "It hurts," she whined.

He frowned, enveloping her hand in both of his. "What hurts? You need to tell us so we can help."

"You," she gestured vaguely to him, "Your mind. It hurts when it touches mine." Peter couldn't help but feel guilty for the pain in her eyes. He barely noticed Suresh moving up to them until Caty gasped, shying away from his extended hand.

"What are you doing?!" Peter snapped, jumping to his feet. Mohinder drew back, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. There was nothing in his hands and he looked just as shocked as Peter felt.

"I was only going to examine her. She is obviously in a great deal of pain." Caty was breathing heavily in the quiet of the room and Peter forced himself to sit back down. Mohinder approached Caty again, his eyes never leaving Peter as he cautiously reached out to her. Right now, to him, Peter was the most dangerous one in the room. And his display of protectiveness proved he was just as vulnerable as Caty. "Peter, I need to check for brain damage. If her powers are being affected, it means there is damage at the source."

"I know," he said. He looked away from the doctor, clinging to Caty's hand as he tried to push down the overwhelming surge of fear running through him. His hand was trembling and he felt like if he stood up again, he would collapse. The past few days was wearing him thin, and it seemed to be pressing in on him from all sides. He heard Caty whimper and then he felt something warm and sunny brush against him. "I'm channeling you, aren't I?" He asked Caty. Her eyes were screwed shut and she shook underneath Mohinder as he tried to examine her as gently as possible. She eventually nodded.

"It hurts." She said through gritted teeth. "I can't control it."

Suresh's face was stern and almost emotionless when he finished, and when his gaze turned to Peter, Peter felt his blood chill. This can't be good.

"Peter, I think we should get her something to eat. She needs her strength. Would you mind showing me the way to the kitchen?" Peter nodded, dread sinking in his stomach. Caty grimaced and reluctantly let go of Peter's hand.

"Don't take too long." She said dryly. Peter gave her a small smile, bending down to kiss her forehead. She leaned into the touch, but after a moment, pulled away. "Don't come back pretending nothing's wrong," she said in a whisper, "You two are terrible at being sneaky."

"Or you're just a really observant woman." He replied, brushing her hair back. Mohinder waited by the door, his back to them, giving them an illusion of privacy. "Everything will be fine. When we get Gabriel back, everything will be just fine."

She smiled, but Peter could tell she wasn't really convinced. " _If_ we get Gabriel back-"

"When," Peter insisted.

"When," she humored him, "What will happen to me? I would have to be in isolation for the rest of my life. I can barely survive you and Suresh. Gabriel is two people all by himself, and both of them are complicated, AKA fucked up. I can't control this."

"You will learn." Peter assured her, cupping her cheek. She, again, leaned into the touch, before pulling back, frowning. "Gabriel and I will help you."

"When Gabriel sees how you look at me, he won't let you within a mile of me."

That startled a laugh from Peter, though the laugh was bitter. "I can't help it. I can honestly tell you I wasn't planning on it."

"I know." She said. "You two are just alike."

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but then Suresh cleared his throat loudly, reminding him they need to talk. "I'll be right back."

"You'll tell me the jist, right? When he's not here?" She shot a glance at Mohinder's back before looking at him. Peter was stunned by the power of those deep brown eyes, that seemed infinite in their knowledge. He forced himself to pull away, feeling her eyes on him as he nodded. He turned to leave with Mohinder, when he heard her hiss.

 _I love Gabriel,_ he heard her strained voice in his mind. _But I feel like I need you, too. Does that make sense?_

He left with Mohinder, leading him down the stairs to the kitchen. Thankfully, Suresh didn't say anything on the way there. If he did, Peter would have been too absorbed in his own head to actually listen. By the time he reached the kitchen, he worked himself into an emotional whirpool. It took the geneticist a few tries to get his attention. He just couldn't stop thinking about the murderous expression that would be on Gabriel's face when he brought him back to Caty.

"Peter!" Mohinder snapped. Peter looked up, eyes wide, a nervous flush coloring his cheeks. "There is a problem." The words pulled Peter further out of his mind, but at the same time, it drove him to another dreading thought. "I believe that what you two attempted damaged her brain irreversibly."

"It should have healed." Peter replied, perplexed. "While she had me, she should have been able to regenerate. The damage should be gone."

"Unless," Mohinder said, "she was immediately exposed to someone who had no ability, leaving her powerless. You collapsed, Peter. You were unconscious. She somehow broke her connection to you, and the strain of the break sent her into hysterics. Now I believe her body goes through a withdrawal when she is completely alone inside her head. If what you say is true, she has spent the better part of a decade completely at the mercy of others. She has never been truly alone. The break from you shocked her. She doesn't know she is capable of pulling back her powers. She doesn't know that she can choose to stop reflecting others."

"Then why are we down here, sneaking around, behind her back? Why don't we just tell her face to face what she can do?"

Suresh looked away, his eyes darting to the side. "Because in her state, if she pulls back now, I believe she could lose her power indefinitely. There is a possible scar where the damage was done. She has recovered quickly. The regeneration done what it could before she pulled away, but then-"

"She was exposed to you, leaving enough of the damage behind to scar." Peter finished, grimacing. He should have known better. She was, for all intents and purposes, a mirror. Stand in between two mirrors and your reflection stretches out into infinity. She wasn't prepared for that, and she trusted Peter with her mind. Or what if she hadn't? Peter honestly didn't consider she was exposing the most vulnerable part of her body to his, to Mohinder, and maybe to Gabriel, too. He shuddered. Baring your brain to Gabriel Gray was worse than waving a fifty year old scotch in front of an alcoholic…the fallout would be catastrophic. Like Matt Parkman, Caty had realized the hard way by reaching into other people's heads, she was exposing herself to them in the worst way possible. With one wrong move, she could be trapped in her own head forever, or dead. Peter couldn't figure out which was worse.

"Unless the damage is repaired," Mohinder's voice broke through to him, but it was hazy, and Peter had trouble focusing. "She might not ever be able to use her abilities again. She was just beginning to tap into the potential of what she could do. Learning a person's entire life in seconds is just the start, with practice and time, she could very easily become them."

"We need Gabriel." Peter said with a start. The words rushed out of his mouth without thinking about it, but now that he said it, it made perfect sense. "Gabriel finding Caty was no coincidence. He has the ability to know how things work, and how to repair them. All he has to do is see the damage and he can fix it."

"Cutting open her head, you mean." Mohinder said with a sneer. Peter winced, resisting the urge to rub his forehead. "How can you be sure he won't kill her?"

"He can't kill her. He can't die, neither can she." Suresh wasn't convinced. The doctor turned on his heel, walking into the kitchen. Peter followed him with a huff. He entered to see Mohinder leaning on the counter, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't you usually have staff around here?" He asked through his hands. "Your mother doesn't seem the domestic type."

Peter smirked, "No, she's more of the playing her own sons like chess pawns type. She's off doing some kind of business. When she's out of town, the staff take a day off or so. She doesn't worry about since Nathan and I have our own place. There's probably soup in the cabinet. I'll see if there's any sandwich stuff." They separated, looking for something to eat.

"Tempting Sylar with her ability is asking for trouble, Peter." Mohinder called over his shoulder as he dug through the pantry, setting aside cans of soup. Peter glanced up at him from the fridge, a pack of shaved ham in his hand.

"Gabriel is different around her. He cares about her." He bent down, digging for a pack of cheese, ignoring Mohinder's snort of derision.

"I find it hard to believe that a monster like that could care about anything other than himself. How do you expect Sylar to go through with it? You said he couldn't do it the first time, why would he try again?"

"The Hunger." Peter said, shutting the fridge with his foot. He set out the sandwich ingredients, pushing his hair back away from his eyes before opening the package of bread. "At this rate, by the time we reach him, he'll be starved and nearly insane. Hopefully, it will work in our favor. He won't even notice he's in pain until it's done." Peter looked at the ingredients, suddenly feeling nauseous. Mohinder didn't notice his skin pale or him sway dizzily as he gripped the counter's edge.

Suresh finally stood, holding three cans of soup in his hands. He paused when he noticed Peter sway again. "I was wondering if you could hear what you were saying."

"If I could live the rest of my life and never expose her to that experience, it will still be too soon." His voice was strained as he said it. "I don't want her hurt, but I can't think of what else to do. I wish that it was me instead of her. Even if he killed me, I would be fine with it. The son of a bitch is going to kill me anyway."

"You love her." Peter heard the question in it, but he shrugged.

"I don't think I do." He replied, his mind feeling messy and jumbled. "I feel like it's getting there. It's at the 'can't imagine my life without her' stage. I think it's because of Gabriel that I haven't fell head over heels for her, yet."

"She brings out the worst of people, their darkest secrets and desires."

Peter shook his head. "Not Gabriel, it's like the opposite. She keeps saying me and him are just alike."

Suresh chuckled, "Have you felt the uncontrollable urge to dissect human beings and toy with their emotions for their abilities? To destroy the world as you know it?"

Peter, despite himself, laughed. "Not yet. It's amazing what we find ourselves capable of in this world, though. Wasn't too long ago you and I were on opposite sides." Suresh nodded to himself, mumbling under his breath as opened the cans and dumped them into pans on the stove. He stirred the chicken soup, then the tomato before turning back to Peter, his mouth set in a frown.

"Sylar's ability is overwhelming, and I feel sorry for Gabriel having to suffer what his power turned him into, but we can't excuse the past because of it."

Peter sighed, pairing slices of bread before laying each set on a plate. "He knows that, I think. I think there's a reason he needed to fall in love with a mirror."

"Not because he's in love with himself?" Suresh remarked, pulling aside his own bread to make his lunch. Peter started to work on his, absently building the sandwich while his mind focused on the girl upstairs.

"No, because Caty will help him face what he's done. Who better to help you fight your demons than your reflection?" He finished his sandwich, moving on to Caty's, again building it on auto-pilot. "She saw straight through his games and his charm-" Mohinder snorted, but didn't comment, "but she didn't run away. She knew from the beginning that he was a killer-"

"A monster." Suresh hissed, cutting his sandwich into halves with more force than necessary. Peter didn't say anything, just held out his hand for the knife when he was done. He forced himself to pay attention to his actions as he carefully cut the sandwich into four triangles, taking the time to cut the crust off each portion. The geneticist huffed in amusement. "You still cut the crusts off your sandwiches?" Mohinder bit back a laugh.

He turned to the stove to stir the soups, when he paused. Peter's face was drawn in confusion as he stared at the sandwich slices as if they would leap up and bite him.

"Peter," Mohinder asked, his voice quiet, "Are you alright?"

The empath shook his head. "I haven't cut the crusts off since I was nine. Nathan always picked on me when I did it." He picked up the slices, looking inside them. "And there's pickles in here. I hate pickles."

Mohinder did laugh then, stirring the tomato soup. "If you hate them, then why did you put them on there?"

Something clicked in Peter's head, "Because Caty likes them. We didn't have any lettuce, but this is how she likes her ham sandwiches, ham, cheese, lettuce, honey mustard, and pickles. Is there black pepper in the chicken soup?"

It was Mohinder's turn to be bewildered, his back stiffening and his posture going straight. "No."

"Then add it. She thinks that canned chicken soup tastes bland without it. Do we have any iced tea? I think I may have seen some." He went to the fridge, checking to see if there was tea, when he heard Mohinder setting aside the spoon with a clank.

"How does Caty take her coffee, Peter?" His voice turned curious, clinical, as if he was behind Peter taking notes.

"She doesn't really care for coffee, but if it's the only thing there, she likes it with a lot of cream and sugar. And decaf if she can have it, it doesn't taste as bitter for some reason." He closed the fridge door, stunned. The words were quick and sure, as if he knew this his whole life. "This is so weird. Let me try something." He rushed over to the counter, plucking a slice of pickle from his sandwich and popped it into his mouth. What was usually jaw-clenching sourness and gag-inducing bitterness was only a little tart with a smooth salty flavor. The confusion grew higher when he craved another one. "This is good. I've hated pickles my whole life and now, they're good. This doesn't make any sense."

Mohinder turned down the heat on the stove, leaning against the counter with an open expression of wonder. "What kind of car does she drive?"

His mind spat the words out before he thought about them. "A white Explorer. It's old and it shakes when she goes over sixty miles per hour, but she likes it. She named him Rex, because he's a huge dinosaur." It didn't stop, even though Peter wanted to. "She's been having battery trouble with it lately. She has a bad habit of leaving the lights on when she gets out, but who can blame her? They're dull as hell and the switch to turn them on is so easy to forget about-"

"Peter!" The geneticist barked, silencing Peter. "That's remarkable. You have only had her power for a day and you know intimate details about her life."

Peter thought for a moment, before gasping. "I know _everything_. I know about where she went to school. She had hardly any friends. She has a younger brother and a sister. Her parents have an awkward relationship with her. My God, she's been so lonely." Peter felt his eyes stinging, and hurried to swallow the loneliness back. It wasn't his. It was hers. "Sylar came to her and she was so confused, but then she realized that there was someone else like her. She grabbed on with both hands and she refused to let go. Then she met me. No wonder she can't control herself. I'm losing it on the echoes." He choked back the sob forcing its way out, pushing it down with a desperate laugh. "I feel like if I look in the mirror right now, I'll see Caty staring back at me." He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. His breath left him in a whoosh. "I know throwing her to Sylar is a bad idea, but he's the only one who can fix what I done." He looked up in time to see Mohinder reach into the cabinet over the stove. Peter rushed to help him, pulling out bowls and plates. He piled them on a serving tray. He stopped Suresh with a hand on his arm as he turned away. "You don't understand, though. Gabriel loves her, and she loves him."

"And are you willing to let her walk away? If you love her like you say?" Peter sighed, feeling his heart clench. "Are you willing to watch her scream in agony while Sylar cuts her head open? See her blood as he touches her brain, wrenching it apart, seeing how it works?" Peter shook his head again.

"I don't know. All I know is that she is hurt and it's my fault. You warned us about what could happen if we touched each other's minds. We didn't listen. I panicked, and now she may have lost control of her abilities for good because of something I did to her. If Gabriel can fix this, then I can walk away."

"Walk away? Just like that?" Suresh's voice was incredulous, but he was smirking. "Her entire life is in your mind. You know her better than anyone in the world. Are you saying after that level of intimacy? After that level of trust, you are just going to hand her over to Sylar and wish them a happy life?"

"I have to." He said, his voice steely. "She loves Gabriel. Not me. Gabriel can help her control her ability, help her use it. I'm here just as lost in it as she is. Gabriel has a gift to help others understand their powers. Maybe with Caty at his side, he can help others."

"To understand their gift, he has to take them first. I highly doubt the hundreds of others he hunts down will survive." Peter pinned Mohinder with a glare, and he could vaguely feel an echo of anxiety in the back of his mind. He realized with a start that it wasn't him feeling it.

"We need to get back to Caty. She's worried." They gathered their lunches in silence, piling the bowls and plates on a large serving tray. He grimaced automatically when he saw a slice of pickle in his sandwich, but he shrugged when he realized his appetite was long gone.

"You plan to tell her about her noble sacrifice?" Mohinder sneered, holding bottles of water. "Or do you think she would appreciate a surprise?"

Peter glared at Suresh. He shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was all her idea. I can't tell whose thoughts are whose right now. The only one I'm sure of is that whatever she wants to do, I'm going to help her, and if you want no part of it, then by all means, leave."

"If you go after Sylar with her, she could die. If you walk into the Company right now, she'll lose her mind before you make it through the front door." They reached the stairs, climbing up the first set before Peter pinned Mohinder with a hard look.

"If Gabriel could get her to focus on him while my mind was clouding hers, then I can, too."

"She loves Sylar, or so you say." The geneticist scoffed. "How can you be sure your reflections won't multiply again? How can you be sure that you don't lose yourself in her thoughts or vice versa? Her power can break the one thing your regeneration can't fix: your spirit. You're risking all of who you are to save a murderer so the woman you want can run off with him. Why even risk that?"

Peter's jaw clenched and he bit back the urge to scream. What Mohinder said stung. It did. He wished that he had been the one to find Caty. Been the one to bring her to New York. A selfish part of him wished Gabriel was the monster they all want him to be, so Caty would run from him and cling to Peter, but ever since Simone, Peter knew what he wanted usually had a steep price. "Risking myself to help someone who needs me _is_ who I am. Gabriel can help her learn control, so we get him back. I can't just lock her up and tell her to forget about it. She's just like the rest of us, Mohinder. She wants a life where her powers don't control her. In case you haven't noticed, a certain murderer has been looking for the same thing. They were meant to find each other, because they can each give what the other wants. If they vanish one day, I can learn to live past that. I've learned to live without a lot of people." He sighed, feeling an ache build behind his eyes. "This is who I am. I wish I could change, but I can't. Maybe if I did, I could find someone like her, but I can't. So, just drop it. We're getting Gabriel back, no matter what."

 _Peter, are you okay?_ He felt more than heard the concern in the thought. He shivered, turning away from Suresh. As he walked up the stairs, his feet felt heavier, stomping on the steps.

"I'll be fine," he mumbled to himself, but a nasty voice in his mind laughed. _Liar_. "I'll be fine." He murmured again, a little louder.

"I beg your pardon?" Mohinder asked behind him.

"Nothing." Peter replied, not looking back. The closer they got to Caty's room, the more the room spun around Peter. Echoes of their thoughts ran wildly through his skull, the ache behind his eyes spiking with a sharp throb. He fought to stay upright, balancing the tray in both arms.

"Peter?"

Peter couldn't speak past the pulsing volume of voices in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, the absence of light only slightly easing the pain behind them.

 _Caty?_ Peter's voice bounced endlessly in his thoughts alongside Caty's.

 _Where are you?_ He started to answer the thought but he felt her attention extending past him, stretching deep into their minds. The pain in his head spiked, forcing him to his knees. Mohinder rushed to grab the plates and dishes before they fell. Peter didn't acknowledge him as he felt something else…someone else answer.

 _Can't tell…_ The voice was weak and small, frightened. The words slurred and the thoughts accompanying them felt sluggish and fuzzy. Whoever this person was inside their head was heavily drugged. _Can't hold on much longer…Trying….Losing you._

 _Don't you dare!_ Caty's voice was shrill and Peter cried out as his head pounded in agony. Images flashed through Peter's head. It was Level 5. The bare concrete walls were splattered with dried blood. The was a large padded slab in the center of the room. He was being strapped down. A drip was attached to his nose, then everything was going fuzzy. It faded until everything went into heavy darkness.

 _What did they do to you?!_ Caty's outrage echoed through Peter as a wave of fire through his blood, forcing another cry from him.

 _Stay with Petrelli._ The voice, who Peter now realized was Gabriel, echoed infinitely through their connection. Caty's pain was palpable and Peter shuddered through the reverberations, groaning. _Hungry…_ the voice grew hoarse, dark… _So hungry._

The extra force pressing in on Peter pulled away, like a receding wave, but the pain in his head only intensified as Caty's mind erupted in a scream of rage. _GABRIEL! THOSE SONS OF BITCHES!_

The connection snapped and Peter was released, the throb in his head vanishing as quickly as it came. His eyes popped open. He was sprawled out on the floor of the hall, alone. He could hear Caty yelling in her room, and Mohinder trying to calm her. He couldn't move. His limbs ached and his head pulsed. His throat felt raw and he felt like someone scrubbed his insides with steel wool. The room around him tilted on its side as he rolled onto his side, nausea rolling his stomach. He fought it off, shaking his head wildly, but the motion only made him light-headed.

He decided to lay there for now, and wait for the pain to pass. He could already feel the tingle of regeneration working on the throbs in his head, but the icky scraped out feeling stayed behind. Maybe Mohinder was right. Maybe Caty could harm them in a way they couldn't heal…


End file.
